


Things Left Unsaid

by Dexterous_Sinistrous



Series: And With One Kiss [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Declarations Of Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Past Stiles Stilinski/Original Character(s), Post-Season/Series 04, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Slow Burn Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-03
Updated: 2015-04-17
Packaged: 2018-03-20 23:40:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 40,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3669483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dexterous_Sinistrous/pseuds/Dexterous_Sinistrous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Struggling with library patrons, being an uncle to Scott and Kira's baby, being grossed out by his dad and Melissa's adorable domesticity. Those were things Stiles could handle. What he couldn't handle were his feelings for Derek Hale. Feelings he thought he squared away years ago, the night Derek left Beacon Hills for good--at least that's what everyone thought.</p><p>But after dedicating a collection in the public library to the Hales, Stiles gets to reevaluate just how strongly a certain Hale can affect him. It doesn't help that everyone knows to ignore talking about the night Derek left. The night Derek and Stiles left a mark on each other.</p><p>Now, they both have to struggle through being there for Scott and Kira, while trying not to kill each other. Through the shared tears and laughter, they both come to realize there are more than a few things they left unsaid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! After much love and motivation, this is the sequel to [With Tears in My Eyes](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3509687/chapters/7715381). This takes place after the _Epilogue: Someday_ , starting with their "friends" dinner.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy it, and will come to realize even though I promised a lot of fluff, there is going to be plenty of angst. (Because instead of being Midas with the Golden Touch, I am an actual human trashcan of feelings with the Angst Touch).
> 
> Feel free to join me on [tumblr](http://drunklightning.tumblr.com) and squeal over Sterek feels <3
> 
> [This](http://dexterous-sinistrous.tumblr.com) tumblr is suited towards my ramblings about my writing, and NSFW considering judgey people know my other tumblr. It's my trashcan of emotions. Feel free to stop by and say hi, criticize me, make incoherent noises with me, whatevs.

“You know, it didn’t have to be a fancy place,” Stiles stated as he placed his napkin in his lap. _That’s what you do in a fancy restaurant … right?_

“Would you rather go to the burger joint in our suits?” Derek asked, amused as he hid his small smile behind his wine glass.

“Stop being so smug and mysterious,” Stiles retorted. “I don’t know why you drink. You can’t even get drunk.”

“I can’t enjoy the taste of alcohol?” Derek arched an eyebrow in question.

“Nobody enjoys the taste of alcohol. They just say that so they can be an alcoholic without admitting it,” Stiles reasoned as he inspected his menu. He artfully placed it to hide most of his face from Derek. Every now and again, he felt Derek’s eyes leave him, giving him a chance to steal a glance.

Derek looked good, happy even. Stiles hadn’t recognized him at the dedication until Mrs. Robinson pointed him out. And if it wasn’t for the disguise of their ‘friendly’ bet as an excuse to get Derek out to dinner alone, Stiles was sure he’d have his foot half way up Derek’s leg and nestled in his crotch. It didn’t help that the lighting was the most romantic Stiles had ever seen, and he was certain the dinner was going to cost as much as his shirt when he realized the prices _weren’t_ noted on the menu.

“Are you trying to make me feel bad?” Stiles asked as he continued to scan the menu.

“How?” Again, Derek raised an eyebrow in question.

 _God, how I missed those_. “I’m pretty sure this is the most expensive place I’ve ever heard of in Beacon Hills. I didn’t mean you had to take me to a place like this,” Stiles explained.

“You said you always wanted to go here,” Derek nonchalantly shrugged as he reached for his wine glass again. “Besides, it seemed like the best place to avoid nosy people we know,” he explained.

“Ah, the pack would never set foot in here,” Stiles replied, nodding. He pretended that Derek remembering him wanting to go here meant nothing. That his stomach wasn’t knotting at the thought of Derek remembering him for more than sex. “Point taken. You want me all to yourself?” He jokingly laughed as he turned back to the menu.

“And if I said I did?” Derek almost stated the fact right there.

Stiles looked up over his menu at Derek, and he was unable to tell if he was serious or not. “If you said you did, I’d think you were trying to get into my pants,” he admitted. “Derek Hale, are you wining and dining me to bring me back to your place and have your way with your _prey_?”

“You are wearing red, Little Red Riding Hood,” Derek smiled into his glass when Stiles tossed one of the rolls on the table at him.

“That was one time,” Stiles harshly whispered, hiding his blushing face in the menu as he looked around to make sure no one was eavesdropping. “And I don’t recall you complaining about it.”

“I’m not complaining now either,” Derek admitted.

“No, you’re laughing,” Stiles tried to calm himself as the memory came back.

“I tend to think you looked good in the cape,” Derek added with a sly smile.

“I think you liked being called the Big Bad Wolf a little too much,” Stiles grumbled. “Speaking of which,” he gestured his head out towards where the Camaro was parked outside the restaurant. He was desperate to change the subject, struggling with not fixating on the memory of straddling Derek’s hips, wearing nothing but a red cape as he teased pleasure out of him until his eyes were completely blown blue. That was the first night he actually made Derek howl. _Don’t fixate on sexing Derek_ , he inwardly groaned _._ “I noticed you have the Camaro again. Embracing the bachelor lifestyle once more?” He pretended that he wasn’t going to be devastated if Derek said yes.

“I never got rid of it,” Derek informed him.

“You didn’t trade it for the Cruiser?” Stiles looked up at Derek.

“The Camaro was originally Laura’s,” Derek explained as he looked down at the wine swirling in his glass. “I put it in storage before I ended up giving it to Cora when we left. Didn’t feel right to get rid of it,” he looked up at Stiles. “Felt like …”

“Like abandoning Laura,” Stiles finished his statement for him.

Derek kept eye contact with Stiles, before nodding in agreement.

“I know what you mean,” Stiles gave a small laugh as he folded his menu, placing it on the table. “That’s why I can’t get rid of my Jeep,” he looked down at his hands wringing in his lap as he spoke. “It was my mom’s. It felt like I was getting rid of my mom if I got rid of it. That’s why it still looks the same.”

Derek was watching Stiles carefully, keeping track of any spikes in his heartbeat. He wanted Stiles to open up, but he didn’t want him to force himself. He didn’t want him to have another panic attack on his account.

“Could fix it up,” Derek offered.

“I’m a new librarian with mountains of grad school debt,” Stiles smiled as he spoke, looking up at Derek. “I can barely afford my rent, let alone fixing up my mom’s old Jeep. Plus, I don’t trust some greedy mechanic poking around under my baby’s hood.”

Derek nodded before offering, “I could, if you want.”

Stiles’ eyes widened slightly before he eyed Derek, as if he was being suspicious opposed to helpful. “Meaning?”

Derek smiled. “I was a mechanic in New York,” he explained. “That was how Laura managed to not have the Camaro crap out on her.”

“Seriously? You’d … you’d do that? Because I can’t pay you,” Stiles stated.

“I offered,” Derek replied.

“I don’t know. My baby doesn’t let anyone under her hood. She’s not that kind of girl,” Stiles joked, partially not wanting to take Derek’s offer, afraid there was some underlying meaning.

“I’ve been under her hood,” Derek stated with a smirk when Stiles stared at him.

“When?” Stiles argued.

“I jumpstarted her battery … at the hospital. The same night as the big power outage all those years ago,” Derek gave a brief explanation, not wanting to mention the Nogitsune out loud.

“Oh,” Stiles’ face softened. “I didn’t know that was you. I just assumed my dad did it.”

“He was too worried about you. I figured I’d help out,” Derek partially shrugged. _Don’t tell him how if you didn’t fix it, the fox wouldn’t have been able to escape the hospital as quickly as it did with his body._

“Thanks, for that,” Stiles stated. “I’m glad someone was thinking about my dad during all of that.” He shared a small smile with Derek, thankful for the comfortable atmosphere they fell into.

It didn’t surprise Stiles how easy it was for them to fall back into their banter with one another. This was one of the reasons nothing was strained between them after Stiles returned to Beacon Hills after the first time they had sex. They agreed that it would have been a one-time thing, unless they both decided they were ready to be together in a relationship. That pact went flying out the window the minute they were left alone together in the loft. Stiles’ heartbeat gave away his arousal at the thought of being alone with Derek, only a few feet from the bed they shared that night. And Derek didn’t need to ask him to know that he would gladly dive right back in. That was how Stiles nearly jumped Derek before they both tumbled into the bed.

Every vacation Stiles had started and ended the same. He always spent the nights he was home in Derek’s bed, lying to Scott and the rest of the pack whenever they caught him there in the morning, before the pack meetings began.

Part of Stiles felt guilty whenever he had to slip from Derek’s bed on the mornings he had to head back to school. He hated losing the warmth of Derek’s body, his own body shivering in protest. Derek always saw him to the door, his hands resting in the pockets of his sweatpants as he watched Stiles tie his shoes. Stiles knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t stop himself from placing a brief kiss on Derek’s lips before exiting. And if Derek happened to hold onto him longer than the kiss lasted, Stiles told himself it was his mind playing tricks on him.

Everything changed Stiles’ senior year. The year he thought he should try dating someone. The year Derek actually recoiled from his presence.

Stiles’ phone began to ring, startling him out of his thoughts. He apologized when he noticed the looks the other customers gave him. He fumbled with his phone when he noticed it was his father.

“Dad, what’s up?” Stiles whispered into his phone as he answered the call. “What?! Now?!” He stood up as he spoke. “Yeah, yeah. I have a key. We’re on our way!” He hung up his phone as he turned to look at Derek. “Kira’s gone into labor.”

As soon as the words left Stiles’ mouth, Derek was up and moving behind him. He handed Stiles his keys as he paid for the bottle of wine. He was surprised when Stiles gaped at him when he got into the passenger’s seat as they reached the car.

“You’re letting me drive your car,” Stiles stated as he slipped into the driver’s seat.

“Observant,” Derek noted as he waited for Stiles to start the car.

“You never let anyone drive this unless you can’t,” Stiles added, turning the key to hear the engine roar to life.

“Your dad said we had to stop at Scott and Kira’s apartment,” Derek explained. “I don’t know where that is.”

“You and your werewolf hearing,” Stiles mumbled as he put the car in reverse.

“I heard that,” Derek stated, smiling at Stiles’ faint grumbling.

They arrived at Scott and Kira’s apartment faster than Stiles thought, worrying that he may have been a leadfoot on the gas pedal. He quickly exited the car, dashing inside to take the stairs a few at a time before he reached the correct floor. He barely registered that Derek had followed him up as he opened the door with a trembling hand.

“Stiles,” Derek’s voice calmly called his name.

“Yeah?” Stiles called back as he started rummaging through the various rooms to find the pregnancy bag he prepared with Kira when Scott had packed too much.

“Babies don’t just pop out. It takes a few hours, at least,” Derek explained as he leaned against the doorway.

“Oh, I know,” Stiles stated, reappearing with a stuffed duffle bag. “I’ve been preparing for this day for months, Derek.”

“I can tell,” Derek replied, taking the bag from Stiles.

“Oh! I forgot Der-Bear!” Stiles said as he ran back into the room he emerged from.

“What?” Derek questioned, genuinely confused.

“Der-Bear, he’s the stuffed—” Stiles froze in his steps, cutting off his own words as he looked up at Derek. He was clutching the plush wolf, holding it against his chest.

“You named the stuffed animal you got our goddaughter ‘Der-Bear’?” Derek questioned as he arched an eyebrow.

“To be fair, you weren’t supposed to be here when I gave it to her,” Stiles argued, trying to prevent the blush creeping onto his cheeks.

Derek only watched Stiles.

“Okay, yeah, I named a stuffed wolf after you, but do you blame me? Look at it!” Stiles held up the stuffed animal in question. It was a ball of black fuzz, a small pink tongue hanging from its mouth with tiny, nonthreatening white felt teeth framing it’s mouth. He noticed its eyes were blue.

“How did you find that?” Derek questioned.

“Isn’t it shocking how much it looks like you?” Stiles added as he moved next to Derek. He handed the stuffed animal to Derek, taking the bag from him as he started to head out of the apartment.

“You’re unbelievable,” Derek stated, following Stiles out of the apartment.

“Don’t be a sourwolf,” Stiles called back.

~0~0~0~0~0~

“How long do you think it’s going to take?” Lydia asked as she rested her chin in her palms again. Jackson gently rubbed her back in an attempt to put her at ease. They had been dating for the past few years, ever since Jackson finally came back to Beacon Hills. Stiles hated to admit it, but Jackson wasn't that bad anymore. Sure, he was still an asshole at times, but he was loyal. Even when he and Lydia liked to argue that the ring on her left hand wasn’t an engagement ring.

“It’s only been two hours,” John stated with a small smile.

“Kira will be okay, right?” Stiles asked as he started pacing once more. “I mean, she heals, so if something goes wrong …” He paused, turning to face Derek. “Are, um, werewolf births like human births?”

Derek looked up at Stiles, surprised that Stiles was asking him something. He had noticed how quiet Stiles had gotten the minute they entered the hospital. “More or less,” he answered with a small shrug.

“Who delivered you?” Lydia curiously asked.

“Deaton,” Derek rolled his eyes as he let out a huff of annoyance. “Or so he says.”

“Really?” John asked, straightening his posture as he waited for Derek to continue.

“It’s customary for emissaries to help with the birthing of their pack’s children. The mother and baby are brought to the hospital afterwards. It’s to keep the doctors and nurses from seeing anything incase the mother—or baby—accidentally shift during the process,” Derek explained. “Kira’s mother will be able to handle everything in there, though.”

“I wish we were in there,” Stiles stated as he looked over at the nurse’s station.

“It’ll be fine, Stiles,” Melissa stated as she shifted in her seat next to John.

“Why aren’t you in there?” Stiles questioned.

“Because I am letting Kira’s mother and Scott be in there with her,” Melissa sighed, resting her head on John’s shoulder in exhaustion. “Scott can draw pain, she’ll be fine.”

“I meant why aren’t you part of the delivery team,” Stiles stated as he continued to pace.

“Conflict of interest since the baby is my grandchild,” Melissa explained.

“This is torture,” Stiles sighed.

“It will be if you don’t calm down,” John commented.

Stiles gave his dad an annoyed look before he marched over to his seat, plopping down in the chair next to Derek. He shifted, his adrenaline spiking at the situation, agitated that no one else was as affected as him. He bounced his leg up and down, eyes darting back and forth across the hallways as he looked for a sign. He was so preoccupied, he barely noticed the hand that came to rest on his knee, bringing his bouncing to an end. His eyes slowly travel down to his leg, taking in the sight of Derek’s hand gently draped over his knee. He noticed the delicate nature in the way Derek was touching him, as if he was something fragile Derek wanted to avoid breaking.

Stiles turned to take in the sight of Derek’s face as he stared back at him. He scanned his face for an understanding, but he found only reassurance and a silent promise that everything was going to be okay. He bit his bottom lip before nodding in agreement with Derek, offering a weak smile as he subconsciously ran his hand over Derek’s. And if holding his hand made Derek uncomfortable, he never informed Stiles of it. If anything, the action of Derek’s thumb rubbing small, comforting circles into his skin—a reminder that he wasn’t alone—made Stiles think Derek didn’t mind holding his hand.

An eternity seemed to pass when a nurse finally entered the waiting room. She smiled when everyone stood up, waiting to hear the news.

“Both Kira and the baby are fine,” the nurse smiled. “A healthy baby girl. Scott said something about mom and dad coming in first, if that’s alright with everyone else.”

“I’m, uh, I’m not—” John began to speak.

“Yes, that’s fine,” Melissa smiled as she cut John off. She turned to look at John. “Of course he meant you,” she pulled him by his hand as she spoke, leading him to follow her and the nurse.

“Save some chubby baby cheeks for me!” Stiles called after them. “I want to be able to pinch her cheeks,” he pouted, waving the stuffed wolf around as he turned to face Derek. “We’re just the godparents. Nothing important.”

Derek faintly smiled as he looked up at Stiles.

“Oh my God,” Stiles stated as he suddenly sat back down next to Derek. “I’m legally Scott’s brother. Which means …”

“You’re an uncle,” Lydia smiled from across the room.

Stiles looked at Derek with a small smile. “I guess I can let you take _some_ of the godfather thunder, then.”

“How kind of you,” Derek deadpanned as he looked away from Stiles. He smiled when Stiles playfully knocked his knee against his.

“It’s a shame you couldn’t make it to the wedding, Derek,” Lydia stated. “Stiles made an adorable best man. And Scott made an even cuter man of honor. They walked down the aisle, arms linked and grinning like idiots.”

Stiles shot Lydia a death glare. He knew she was bringing up his dad’s and Melissa’s wedding on purpose, ambushing Derek the moment she got the chance. He was going to leap across the room and tackle her, even if Jackson still had his arm around her, if it meant she would stop talking.

“John sent me a letter with the invite, actually,” Derek replied. “Explaining to me that I was excused from making an appearance.”

Stiles whipped his head to look at Derek. _Dad sent him a letter?_

“Oh?” Lydia arched an eyebrow.

_Damn her and her methods for getting to the bottom of things by rocking the boat!_

“He told me that he’d prefer I finish up everything I had going on in South America before coming back,” Derek kept eye contact with Lydia, not letting on that he saw Stiles gaping at him.

“Okay, why do you and my dad have a secret relationship?” Stiles questioned.

“Why do you think I was attacked by the … the wendigo all those years ago?” Derek asked as he turned to look at Stiles, his voice only wavering at the mention of the wendigo.

“Because … my dad asked for your help,” Stiles sighed as he started to put the pieces together. “That’s why my dad felt guilty about you getting hurt. Why did you never tell me about that?”

Derek shrugged. “I don’t like talking about that _thing_ ,” he stated through partially gritted teeth.

Stiles spent enough nights in Derek’s arms to know how much he hated the wendigo. They never spoke about it after their first night together. Derek’s hands, however, always moved across the scars as if they were trying to erase their existence completely. Even in his sleep, Stiles could feel the way Derek’s fingers would trail over the old, fully healed scars. Something told Stiles that even though he killed the wendigo, Derek still hadn’t recovered from all the damage it caused.

Stiles ran his fingertips over Derek’s hand, slowly slipping his fingers in between Derek’s once more. He tightened his grasp, looking up at Derek as he gave him a small smile of reassurance, a small attempt to eliminate the guilt that still plagued him. The waiting room remained silent after that, until Melissa and John returned, both smiling from ear to ear before ushering Derek and Stiles to have their turn.

Stiles and Derek walked down the hallway, nodding a greeting to Kira’s mother before they stood in front of the door labeled ‘McCall-Yukimura’. Stiles took a deep breath, surprised Derek waited for him to enter the room first. He nodded before heading in. He smiled at Kira who gave him a weak nod, a faint smile on her lips as she looked over at Scott.

“Oh my God,” Stiles breathed when he saw the little bundle of blankets cradled in Scott’s arms. “Is that her? That’s her, isn’t it? She’s so tiny,” he started to ramble as he got closer.

“She’s beautiful,” Scott commented as he gently rocked his daughter back and forth in his arms.

“Dude, I can’t—she’s perfect,” Stiles stated with a huge grin as he looked down at her.

“You want to hold her?” Scott asked as he looked up at Stiles.

“Uh—Yeah, I mean. Can I?” Stiles looked nervous, glancing over at Kira for the okay.

“You won’t break her Stiles,” Kira stated in reassurance. She looked up and smiled at Derek when she felt him slip his hand into hers. Her pain began to subside as she saw the black veins draw up Derek’s hand and into his arm. “Thank you,” she weakly smiled as she relaxed. Derek only smiled back before looking over at Stiles.

“Just make sure you support her head,” Scott stated as he started to hand his daughter over to Stiles.

“Right,” Stiles stated, determination plastered over his face.

“Just brace her with your arm,” Scott added. “And make sure to have both hands—”

“Scott,” Kira’s voice made him look over to her. “She’s fine. Stiles is fine.”

“Right,” Scott stated, looking back at Stiles. “Sorry.”

“It’s totally fine,” Stiles replied, not bothering to look at Scott as he stared down at the sleeping bundle in his arms. He felt captivated, unable to look at anything else. “I’m an uncle,” he whispered to himself. “You are the most precious thing ever,” he commented as he gently rocked her, noticing her yawn and stretch out her fingers. “I’m going to teach you lacrosse. And how to get grandpa to let you break all the rules.”

Kira rolled her eyes, smiling as she watched Stiles fawn over her daughter.

“What’s her name?” Derek asked, letting his hand slip from Kira’s as Scott took his place. He moved over to stand next to Stiles, watching how ridiculously happy he looked as he stared at the baby.

Scott looked down at Kira, both of them exchanging a look that spoke volumes to one another. It was as if they had the conversation a million times in private but were afraid to finally have it with an audience.

“We wanted to run it by you first, Derek,” Scott started.

Derek looked over at Stiles, who for the first time since holding the baby was looking up at them. Derek could feel Stiles’ eyes linger on him when he looked back at Scott and Kira. “By the both of us?” He gestured to Stiles.

“No, just you,” Kira answered.

“We picked her name out the minute we knew she was a girl,” Scott explained. “But we wanted to make sure it was alright with you. And if it’s not, that’s totally fine—”

“—we have back ups,” Kira inserted.

“But we hope you’ll say yes,” Scott concluded.

A knot tightened in Derek’s chest, a lump rising in his throat as he started to catch on. He only nodded, not trusting his voice.

“We wanted to name her Laura,” Scott finally confessed.

Again, Derek could feel Stiles’ eyes on him, and he didn’t know if that made it worse or better.

“In memory of your sister, who without her, we wouldn’t all be here today,” Scott explained. “We wouldn’t be a pack without her.”

Derek turned his head to look at the baby, seeing her face for the first time since entering the room. She looked perfectly at ease in Stiles’ arms, and for some reason, Derek’s wolf joyously howled seeing how at ease Stiles was with a baby in his arms.

Stiles silently closed the gap between him and Derek, sensing that Derek wanted to see the sleeping bundle of squishy cheeks. He didn’t want to let her go just yet, but he knew Derek needed to hold her more than he did at the moment. He held his arms up as he offered her to Derek.

Derek hesitated before gently slipping his arms under Stiles, easily taking the baby in his arms. He looked down at her and noticed how she munched her lips together, her arms reaching out into the air as she stirred. Derek wasn’t sure why, but something about holding her felt right. Coming back to Beacon Hills to be there for Scott and Kira—for their daughter—and for the pack suddenly clicked. Her eyes slowly opened, and she stared up at Derek, her small eyes taking in the giant man whose arms she was currently housed in. Derek felt his wolf whine, something telling him that it was right, that she was pack. _Family_.

“Laura,” Derek’s voice was hoarse, sounding rough—as if he was just in a screaming match with someone. “She looks like a Laura.” He securely held her in one arm as he reached his hand up to gently touch her hands. The knot in his chest tighten, instantly snapping when Laura wrapped her small hand around his index finger, not letting go. He heard the sound of a camera going off, causing him to look up at Stiles.

Stiles was smiling down at his phone, beaming at the photo he had taken. “I’m sorry, but Derek Hale holding a baby and smiling is too perfect for me not to document,” he sheepishly admitted as he looked up at Derek, a blush crossing his cheeks.

Derek only nodded, looking back down at Laura, listening to the beat of her heart as she started to lull back to sleep in his arms. He selfishly held onto Laura for almost half an hour, keeping her safe in his arms, and the others didn’t seem to mind.

It wasn’t until after Stiles hugged Scott and Kira goodbye, while he was walking beside Derek, that Stiles noticed something was off. Derek was completely zoned out, as if he couldn’t comprehend what was happening. He offered an excuse for them both to his father and Melissa, apologizing that they couldn’t stay longer. He was thankful when his dad gave him a knowing nod.

They drove in silence, Stiles stealing side glances at Derek every few minutes. He frowned, noticing that Derek elected to stare out the window the entire time even though he most likely knew Stiles was staring at him.

The walk up to the loft was even worse. Derek made no indication that he even knew Stiles was following him up the stairs. Every step was weighed down with the implication that they were going to talk about what happened.

The door gave way under Derek’s familiar strength, and Stiles was surprised to find the loft exactly the same since the last time he saw it. Stiles was certain Derek wouldn’t have come back here, at least purchasing a better home—one without a hole in the wall.

Stiles frowned as he recalled the last night he spent with Derek. He hated himself for remembering that night, for being so deeply affected by it. He wanted to ignore the fact that Derek ended it that night—that he rejected Stiles one last time. But here they were again, and that meant … well, Stiles didn’t know what that meant. He wanted to lie to himself and keep hoping it meant Derek was sorry, that he was going to wrap himself around Stiles and never let go. That he was going to accept Stiles’ apology for bringing _him_ to Beacon Hills. For their fight. For their goodbye. For messing it all up.

The sound of something hitting the floor near Stiles caused him to look up, pulling him from his memories. He placed his hands in his pockets as he noticed Derek had tossed his shoes carelessly behind him. He observed him from his spot near the couch, watching Derek slowly stripping his clothes away as he headed for the bed. He released a sigh, carding a hand through his hair before he began to strip his jacket off, carefully placing it over the back of the couch. He toed his shoes off as he began to unbutton his shirt.

 _Walk away. Turn around and walk out the door. Walk out of his life and don’t complicate this_ , Stiles’ voice of reason screamed at him. _Leave him like he left you._ It was the same voice that yelled at him to run that night he came to tell Derek he liked him, only to find Braeden and Derek together. And just like then, Stiles ignored it once more as he pathetically folded his clothes to place them on the couch, leaving himself clad in his briefs to follow Derek’s retreating form to the bed.

Derek remained silent as he sluggishly climbed into bed, pushing the comforter back and out of his way. He curled around his pillow, keeping his back towards Stiles. He wasn’t sure if he was relieved when the mattress dip under Stiles’ weight, but he adjusted his body to make room for him, regardless. A shiver pulsed through his body when Stiles’ body pressed up against his back, his body snuggly fitting behind him.

Stiles gently ran his hand over his torso, pulling a sigh out of Derek as he rested his palm flat against his chest. He cautiously nuzzled the nape of Derek’s neck, terrified that Derek would tense up and pull away from him. He pressed his nose into the hair behind Derek’s ear, gently breathing in his scent— _leather, pine, soap, Derek_.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Stiles’ voice quietly broke through the silence.

“Did you … Did you know?” Derek finally asked.

Stiles sighed. “Yes,” he honestly replied, not wanting to lie to Derek. He felt Derek’s body tense at his response. “But I told them they had to ask you first. That it was only right if you knew,” he explained. He gently trailed his fingertips over Derek’s chest, playing with his chest hair in what Stiles hoped was a comforting manner. When Derek still remained silent, he moved and placed a gently kiss on his shoulder blade.

Derek abruptly sat up, pulling himself out of Stiles’ arms. He stared off into the loft, as if he was looking for something. He didn’t yell at Stiles, he didn’t threaten him, nothing to indicate that he was upset with him.

Stiles slowly followed Derek’s lead, sitting up beside him, shifting his body in order to get as close to Derek as possible. He placed his hand over Derek’s triskelion, his fingertips tracing the dark swirls. “It’s not too late,” his voice was soft against the deafening silence. “Scott and Kira said they were waiting to name her until tomorrow, in case you changed your mind.” He rested his chin on Derek’s shoulder as he observed Derek’s profile, his fingers still tracing Derek’s triskelion, remembering how the rhythmic contact calmed Derek’s wolf whenever it was upset. “You’re _allowed_ to change your mind, Derek,” he slowly explained.

And that was when the floodgates suddenly opened up.

Derek let out a sharp sob, shuddering throughout his entire body. He clamped his eyes shut, burying his face in his hands as the tears started to spill. It had been almost ten years since Derek allowed himself to really feel the loss of his family.

“I’m here,” Stiles said, moving his fingers from Derek’s triskelion to carefully card them through his hair. “I’m here,” he repeated as he placed another kiss on Derek’s shoulder.

Derek’s entire body curled in on itself, collapsing into Stiles’ lap as he let him comfort him. He pushed into the comfort of Stiles’ hands rubbing his back, letting go of his grief.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Stiles refused to tell him it was going to be okay, because he knew that was the last thing Derek wanted to hear—needed to hear. Because that was the last thing he wanted to hear when he thought about his mom.

The world fell away from them, nothing but the sound of Stiles’ comforting words met Derek’s soft sobs. It was the first time Derek let Stiles truly see how broken and vulnerable he was. Throughout their summer love affairs, Derek and Stiles grew closer while ignoring the obvious standing right in front of them. They ignored the fact that they were lovers in every sense of the word; that they were bridging a gap between them that wasn’t going to be easy to sever. They would stay in bed, hours after reaching orgasm, just to trail their fingers over the other’s body. They talked more in those forgotten hours than they had the first few years in knowing each other.

Stiles loved those precious hours more than anything. Stiles wasn’t going to lie, the sex was amazing, but it left him vulnerable and open to anything Derek asked of him, and in those moments they transcended from sex buddies to lovers. It wasn’t until he asked Derek about Paige that they both started to relax into their stolen embrace. Derek would run his fingers along Stiles’ spine as he opened up, giving Stiles a glimpse into just how broken he was. There were times when Derek would tense, the memories too painful to talk about. Stiles would instantly place a gentle kiss over Derek’s heart, willing him to continue when he was ready, coaxing the tension out of his body.

But this wasn’t Derek retelling a haunting memory from his past. This was Derek’s carefully constructed mask finally breaking under the battering ram of reality. This was Derek finally letting himself mourn, to grieve what was taken from him.

Derek’s tears subsided, feeling as if he had nothing left in him to feel. Stiles’ fingertips ignited flames over his skin, a fond reminder that he could still _feel_ something. He was still alive, even though he felt like a hollow shell. He pressed his face into Stiles’ thigh, closing his eyes as he took in the familiar scent and comfort.

“It just makes it … real,” Derek finally spoke, keeping his head in Stiles’ lap. His eyes were heavy, stinging from the long overdue tears he just shed as he focused solely on the feeling of Stiles’ fingertips stroking through his hair. And if he let himself believe it was a loving gesture, he wasn’t going to announce that fact.

“I know,” Stiles replied. “I know,” he sighed.

“You should head home,” Derek finally spoke, pulling his body away from Stiles as he sat up.

“I could stay,” Stiles offered, not wanting to leave the comfort of Derek or the bed just yet. “If you want me to.” He stared down at his hands when he heard Derek release a heavy sigh. It was just like he was right back in high school again, and he was waiting to hear words of rejection all over again.

“I don’t want—I just think we’re back at a good spot, and I don’t want to ruin it,” Derek confessed.

 _Of course_ , Stiles thought. _He didn’t come back to be together. He didn’t come back for me._ “You wound my honor, Derek Hale,” he said with his best false smile. “Sincerely, I am not offering to stay the night to grope you,” he admitted, reaching to hold Derek’s hand. “I am not going to try and get in your pants … Well,” he looked down at Derek’s briefs before adding, “lack of pants.” He genuinely smiled when he saw the faint smile curl at the corner of Derek’s mouth. “I just don’t want to leave you alone.”

Derek looked up at Stiles, searching his eyes for something. He looked hopeful, opening his mouth to speak before pressing his lips into a thin line. He nodded in agreement, reclining back on the bed. He turned his back towards Stiles, and the action alone made Stiles feel like the entire night was a complete disaster.

After everything they had been through, Derek was shutting Stiles out once again. Stiles swallowed his pride and curled up behind Derek, slowly slipping his arm around Derek’s waist, pressing his face gently against the hair at the nape of his neck. He didn’t want to let go of him, he wanted to be able to wake up every morning like this, Derek Hale wrapped safely in his arms. Stiles knew he was ruined for anyone else the minute Derek placed his arm over his, their fingers almost intertwining. He knew that despite arguing that he wanted nothing from Derek, he still wanted everything from him.

“Thank you,” Derek’s sleepy voice broke the silence.

“No problem,” Stiles replied, his voice hollow. He was so gone on Derek, and after all the years of trying to leave the bond they had behind, he was right back to where he was senior year of high school.

 _Fuck_.

~0~0~0~0~0~

Stiles rolled over, clinging to the sheets wrapped around him. He heard the noise of a tea kettle, causing him to jerk upright. _I don’t own a tea kettle_ , he reasoned, squeezing his eyes shut, grumbling at the sunlight beaming in through the windows that blinded him. He looked around and realized he was in the loft. _Derek_ , he thought as he looked around for him. He slipped from the bed, his feet heavy against the ground as he walked towards the kitchen.

“Derek?” He called out, yawning as he stretched his body.

“Hey,” Derek’s voice greeted him as Derek started to descend the staircase.

“Hey,” Stiles echoed, turning to look at him. He tried not to stare at Derek’s bare chest, ignoring how attractive he looked in just jeans. He was suddenly conscious of the fact that he was still just in his briefs, looking over at the couch as he sought out his clothes.

“You can take a shower, if you want,” Derek offered as he watched Stiles get dressed.

“That’s okay, I have to get back home to Bruce anyways,” Stiles replied as he pulled his pants on.

“Oh,” Derek replied. “Right.”

Stiles looked up at Derek, hearing the sudden change in his voice. “Uh, Bruce is my dog,” he stated as he busied himself with buttoning his shirt, a blush rushing over his skin. “Bruce Wayne. On special occasions, Batman.”

Derek stared at Stiles for a moment before nodding. “I didn’t know you got a dog.”

“He’s a cuddler,” Stiles smiled. “It beats cuddling a cold pillow, even when he kicks me in the face.”

Derek nodded again, looking down at the floor between them. They both remained silent, the air suddenly turning awkward between them, despite the fact that they had cuddled the entire night.

“I, uh, I guess I’ll see you around now?” Stiles questioned. He nibbled his bottom lip as he thought about another excuse to see Derek again. “Um, my dad and Melissa were thinking about throwing a little surprise party for Scott and Kira when they get back to the apartment. I’m sure they’d love to see you there.” He felt like he was a bumbling teenager again, all thanks to Derek.

Derek nodded— _what is he, a bobble head_ —giving a noncommittal, “Sure.”

“Okay,” Stiles fiddled with his jacket as he spoke. “Cora can come too.”

“Thanks,” Cora’s voice came from upstairs, causing Stiles to nearly jump out of his skin.

“I didn’t know, uh, you were here,” Stiles stuttered when he saw her coming down the stairs.

“I went straight to bed when I came back to find you two in bed,” Cora explained. She ignored the blatant glare Derek gave her. “I’d appreciate a warning next time. I don’t like finding my brother naked in bed with someone else.”

“We weren’t naked,” Derek nearly snarled.

“Nothing happened,” Stiles added.

“Clearly,” Cora replied with a skeptical snort before walking over to the kitchen.

“Maybe I’ll see you both at the party. I’ll, uh, I’ll get your number from Scott and let you know,” Stiles began to ramble as he backed towards the door. “It was nice seeing you. Both of you,” he added, giving a small smile before he practically darted out the door.

Derek watched as Stiles ran away, frowning to himself as he moved to pick up his own discarded clothes. He moved to head back up the stairs to hang his suit in the small room he called a closet upstairs.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Cora’s voice stopped Derek from moving.

“I don’t know—”

“Bullshit,” Cora cut him off. “Derek, what the hell are you doing? You spent a year to get away from that,” she added.

“I’m thirty, Cora, I don’t need to have this conversation,” Derek replied.

Cora laughed at him. “Right. I told you we shouldn’t come back,” she stated as she aggressively threw a tea bag into her mug. “He royally fucked up your emotions, and it took more than a year for you to sort through everything. I mean, Christ, you finished school and everything. And now you want to jump back into … into what Derek? You were never his boyfriend.” She knew that statement was twisting the knife, but he needed to hear it.

“I know that, Cora,” Derek replied, his voice heavy with warning.

“Then _what_ are you doing, Derek?” Cora replied.

“I’m here for Scott and Kira. For their daughter … Laura.”

Cora turned to stare at Derek. “They … they named her Laura?” Her voice was soft as she asked.

“Yeah,” Derek nodded. “But that’s why I’m here, Cora. I want to be here for Scott. For Beacon Hills, like mom said. It’s Hale territory, and we’re meant to protect it.”

“But that doesn’t mean you—”

“Stiles stayed because I was thrown off guard by Scott and Kira naming their daughter Laura,” Derek confessed.

“Is that it?” Cora asked, not buying Derek’s explanation.

“Yes.”

“Derek, you were the little spoon,” Cora argued.

Derek shot her a look, angry that he was in such an intense state of ease with Stiles that he didn’t hear Cora come back. “Stiles Stilinski is nothing but pack to me,” he stated. “And I am nothing to Stiles Stilinski but an old fuck buddy.” His voice was heavy, speaking with conviction as his glare dared Cora to argue with him.

“Fine,” Cora stated. “But if he steps over the line, I will break his face.” She walked by Derek, holding her tea as she took the steps up to the guest room.

Derek looked at the bed, a small growl escaping his lips as he moved to yank the sheets from the mattress. He had to wash them now to get Stiles’ hauntingly familiar scent out of his mind. He wanted to burn them, recalling all the nights he shared with Stiles on them. _Maybe I’ll burn the mattress_ , he reasoned as he angrily took the steps to head for the laundry room.

Derek knew he was going to run into Stiles again, it was inevitable. He even knew that he was going to have to see him since he agreed to be a godfather to Scott and Kira’s daughter. But he didn’t know Stiles was going to cause him to regress back to more than a year ago. He didn’t know Stiles still cared enough to comfort him. He wished Stiles had never confronted him that night and let Derek leave with his dignity in tact.

~0~0~0~0~0~

“Dad?” Stiles called as he walked into his dad’s house. “Dad, I have a bone to pick with you!” He almost yelled, not wanting to search the whole house.

“What has Derek Hale done now?” Melissa’s amused voice came from the kitchen.

Stiles moved to join her, disappointed when he realized his dad wasn’t in there as well. “What makes you think that?”

“You left the hospital with him,” Melissa stated. “And then your father proceeded to constantly pace as he pondered whether or not to hunt Derek down and threaten him.”

Stiles groaned before plopping down in the stool next to the island. “Nothing happened,” he explained as he ran a hand through his hair.

“So, this walk of shame _isn’t_ a walk of shame?” Melissa’s tone was still amused as she turned and offered Stiles some bacon.

“Shit,” Stiles commented when he realized he was still in his suit. “Dad’s going to think—”

“You can borrow some of your brother’s clothes,” Melissa commented.

They both paused, Stiles’ hand lingering in the air with a fresh piece of bacon as Melissa held the plate tightly in her hand.

“I, ah, I don’t know where that—” Melissa started, somewhat nervous that she had made Stiles uncomfortable.

“No, no, it’s okay,” Stiles reassured her with a small smile. “Scott is my brother.”

Melissa ducked her head slightly before nodding, not even trying to hide her smile.

“Melissa,” John’s voice called as he came down the stairs, heading for the kitchen. “I think I should check on Sti—” His dad stopped mid-step when he saw Stiles sitting on the stool.

“Hey, dad,” Stiles tried to smile, despite the fact that he could tell his father was inspecting his appearance.

“What happened?” John’s face was like stone, completely unreadable besides the fact that he was ready to shoot Derek.

“Nothing!” Stiles groaned. “I stayed the night with him—nothing sexual—and then I left this morning.”

John eyed Stiles, giving him a look that told Stiles he didn’t buy it. He moved next to him, reaching for the plate of bacon. Before he could, Melissa moved the plate and Stiles smacked his hand.

“You two are the worst,” John muttered, fond of the way Stiles and Melissa smiled at each other.

“You need to live a long and healthy life so you can shoot Derek, remember?” Melissa replied, kissing John on the cheek.

“So something did happen?” John turned to look at Stiles.

“No! Well, I, uh … I kind of invited him to the party tonight,” Stiles sheepishly admitted.

“Oh, Scott will like that,” Melissa added, knowing that John would partially cave if it meant someone besides Stiles was benefiting from Derek’s presence.

“He is Laura’s godfather,” Stiles smiled as he ate more of the bacon.

“So he still agrees? On the name and being godfather?” John arched his eyebrow as he asked, reaching for the mug Melissa had poured of freshly brewed coffee.

“Yeah,” Stiles replied, almost lost in thought as he recalled last night. “That was why I stayed last night. It hit him pretty hard, you know?” He looked up at his dad.

“That’s why Scott waited to tell him until you were there,” Melissa replied.

“He could have warned me,” Stiles replied, accepting the mug of tea Melissa handed to him.

“Here, honey,” Melissa stated as she offered a jar of honey to Stiles.

Stiles chuckled as he took the honey, smiling when Melissa and John looked at him in confusion. “It’s just that, you could have been calling me honey or stating that you were giving me honey.”

Melissa partially laughed before going back to the stove, John rolling his eyes as he sat next to Stiles.

“Dad,” Stiles started, slowly pouring the honey into his mug.

“Kiddo,” John greeted him back.

“Did you tell Derek not to come to the wedding?” Stiles knew it was blunt, but he didn’t know how else to phrase it.

John looked up at Melissa when she looked back at them. He took a deep breath before sighing. “Yes.”

“Oh,” Stiles replied, unsure how he felt at his father’s easiness when telling him the truth about that.

“I told him to finish up what he was doing. To finish up school, getting his life settled before he uprooted himself,” John explained.

“To finish … Wait, how do you know what he was doing?” Stiles looked up at his father, gaping at him.

“I’ve been keeping in touch with him,” John replied, taking a sip of his coffee.

“And you didn’t tell me, why?” Stiles asked in an accusatory tone.

“Because I didn’t want to upset you,” John sighed as he spoke. “Stiles, you were in a bad place ever since the wendigo,” he paused, eyebrows furrowing at the memory of his son laying in a hospital bed, fighting for his life. “Then you and Derek started getting closer. Hell, you starting sleeping at the loft almost every night you were home from school.”

Stiles tried to fight the blush that ran over his skin.

“Then after what happened your senior year,” John looked up at Stiles, noticing him tense. “You looked like you had moved on from Derek. Whatever you two were doing was out of your system, and you were happy with Noah. Derek said he didn’t want to make Noah or you uncomfortable with his presence.”

Stiles looked down at his tea, wishing his father wouldn’t mention Noah, when all he could think of was Derek.

“I told Derek that he shouldn’t come back unless he was ready for that,” John admitted. “I told him that if he couldn’t leave you alone, he shouldn’t come back.”

“Dad, you had no right—”

“It was my wedding, Stiles,” John corrected him.

“You had no right to tell him not to come back _at all_. It’s my fault he left in the first place. He was … he was just being nice because he knew I still had you here. I won Beacon Hills in the custody battle,” Stiles drummed his fingertips against his mug as he spoke, almost lost in thought. _Lost in Derek_.

“Son,” John’s voice was heavy and serious, but equally concerned. “How is it your fault?”

Stiles shook his head, not wanting to remember that night. He made a lot of mistakes, but that was the biggest one. That was the one that changed everything.

Stiles opened his mouth to speak, his voice cracking. He clenched his eyes shut, knowing his dad wasn’t going to let him walk away from this conversation. He was thankful Melissa—bless her heart—was playing the oblivious mother figure as she kept her back to them. “I cheated on Noah,” he finally blurted out.

Melissa finally turned to look at Stiles and John for the first time since John began talking.

“You what?” John asked in confusion.

Stiles let out a low, hollow laugh. “I cheated on him, that’s why we broke up. I cheated on him with Derek,” he refused to look up at his dad or Melissa.

“Jesus, Stiles,” John sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. “You said—”

“I know. I didn’t want to admit it. Derek didn’t even know—no one knew. I didn’t want Derek to leave, but I didn’t want to give up Noah either. So I—I just … I,” he looked up at his dad, trying to hold back the tears. “Derek was there, when you were in the hospital. When I needed someone most, I called him, not Noah. I guess I didn’t get him out of my system,” the laugh that emitted from his throat was weak and depressed.

“Stiles, we don’t have to invite Derek tonight,” Melissa’s voice broke the heaviness of the silence.

“Too late, I already did,” Stiles argued, staring down at his hands in shame. “Besides, I should be the one that—”

“Stiles,” John’s voice held a warning. “You’re still my son, and I still love you regardless of some stupid ass mistakes you’ve made. So stop trying to put yourself down.”

“Dad,” Stiles almost groaned.

“We all make mistakes,” John answered. “It’s how we deal with those mistakes that matters.”

Stiles looked up at his dad, searching his features for an answer. He knew his father was talking about dealing with whatever problems he still had with Derek. “Derek wasn’t a mistake,” his voice was almost inaudible as he confessed.

“Then maybe you have to deal with making up for all the other mistakes,” Melissa offered with a smile.

Stiles weakly nodding, knowing that tonight was going to be one of the toughest nights he was ever going to face. But when it was all over and done with, maybe he’d finally have that happily ever after he wanted so bad. Maybe that happily ever after would in the form of one Derek Hale.

~0~0~0~0~0~

Stiles was surprised when Derek showed up at Scott and Kira’s apartment early, Cora right behind him. He braved offering Derek a smile, happy when he was rewarded with a similar one from Derek. He tried to not avoid him, ignoring the fact that his father was the one that texted him with all the information he needed to attend.

Stiles couldn’t keep his eyes off of him, though. He tried, but it was an uphill battle he almost too willingly lost. He wanted to go and stand by Derek, talk to him about the other night, and maybe even apologize for what happened between them. He would have, too, if it wasn’t for the death glare he was getting from Cora. Every now and again, Derek would catch Cora looking at Stiles before he not so discreetly poked her in the ribs, giving her a glare of his own.

There were a lot of people crammed into the small confines of Scott and Kira’s living room, and it was actually managing to wear down Stiles’ patience. It, however, was worse for Derek. Derek was fixated on Stiles the entire night, perhaps not staring at him every moment, but he was constantly aware of where Stiles was at all times. He could feel whenever Stiles’ eyes drifted over to him. He wanted to say something, but he was afraid of spooking Stiles.

 _We’re right back where we were,_ Derek thought. _Except we know how amazing we can be together_.

Cora didn’t help the situation by slipping away from Derek when she noticed Stiles moving into the kitchen. She observed Stiles from the doorway, waiting for the last few strangers to move back into the living room area as they all waited to surprise the Scott and Kira.

“Thanks for inviting us,” Cora’s voice startled Stiles, who almost dropped the bottle of wine he was pouring.

“Uh, yeah, no problem. I mean, thanks for coming,” Stiles nodded to himself, keeping his eyes away from Cora.

“How have you been?” Cora asked as she started to close in on him.

Stiles was never more aware of being in a room alone with a werewolf than when they started to close in on him. It was easy to feel like prey when a Hale cornered him in a room. He almost would have preferred if Derek was the one sizing him up now, because at least he would chalk it up to mutual sexual frustration.

“Good. Busy,” Stiles offered a slight laugh. “You?”

“Picking my brother up off the floor,” Cora stated as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“What?” Stiles finally looked at Cora, his eyes widened in concern. “Is he alright?” He inquired in a worry-riddled tone.

“Wow, you both are idiots,” Cora sighed, shaking her head from side to side.

“I thought Derek looked okay,” Stiles’ voice drifted into a mumble, his heartbeat still erratic as fear for Derek’s safety hammered through his body.

“It’s easy to look okay from another continent,” Cora scoffed.

“What are you—”

“Cora,” Derek’s voice cut off Stiles’ words, causing both Stiles and Cora to look at Derek. Derek was looming in the doorway, his body boxing out the doorway. It was the first time Stiles really noticed that Derek could still be as terrifying as he once was all those years ago. And he was certain that if Derek shot him a look, he’d go scurrying for cover.

But Derek wasn’t looking at Stiles. His eyes were fixated on Cora, both of them having a silent argument with their eyes—possibly with the help of their eyebrows, which Stiles accredited to them being Hales.

Derek’s eyes flashed blue when Cora tried to speak, instantly silencing her. If anyone knew better than to argue with a Hale, it was another Hale. Cora released an aggravated sigh before marching over to Derek, partially shouldering him out of the way as she went to rejoin the party.

Stiles was more than confused—he was curious. He wanted to know what the hell had Cora so twisted around that she was actually seeking Stiles out to intimidate him. He clutched the wine bottle to his chest when he noticed that it was just him and Derek now.

“Sorry about her,” Derek offered, looking over at Stiles. A small frown tugged at the corner of his lips when he caught on to Stiles’ change in scent—anxiety and uncertainty began to roll off of Stiles in waves. He ducked his head, avoiding looking at Stiles.

“It’s fine, I just—” Stiles stopped himself as he observed Derek. “Are you doing okay?”

Derek looked up at him, taken off guard by his question. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“We didn’t really get to talk yesterday,” Stiles stated as he shifted from foot to foot. “And Cora said that you were a bit … off.”

“Cora exaggerates,” Derek replied as he moved closer to the counter Stiles was leaning against.

“You haven’t changed,” Stiles commented with a small smile crossing his lips.

“What do you mean?” Derek arched his eyebrow in question.

“You never did like letting people know when you were upset,” Stiles answered as he looked up at Derek.

“I’m not upset,” Derek crossed his arms as he leaned against the fridge.

“He says as he defensively crosses his arms over his chest,” Stiles narrated, moving to pour some of the wine into his glass.

“Stiles,” Derek spoke his name gently, but with enough force that Stiles knew he didn’t want to talk about it.

“I get it,” Stiles replied. “I’m probably the last person you want to talk to after that night.” His grip on the wine bottle slightly slipped, causing him to set it down quicker than he intended. He didn’t even want to remember what happened that night, and he doubted Derek wanted to be reminded of it.

“I wanted to apologize about that, actually,” Stiles continued, a nervous laugh bubbling up from his chest. “I never meant for it to end like that, you know? I was in a bad place and I wanted to drag someone else down with me.” He released his grip on the wine bottle, anxiously rubbing the back of his neck as he focused on the counter opposed to Derek. “I was hurt that you were leaving, even though I didn’t have a right to be. I said a lot of things that night because I wanted to make you hurt too. It was stupid and childish, and I shouldn’t have done it. I never meant to—” Stiles looked over at Derek, his entire body paralyzing when he noticed how close he was.

Derek’s arms were no longer crossed but loosely propping himself up against the counter. He had slid his body closer to Stiles as he was speaking, seeking comfort from the close proximity. He was watching Stiles, listening to his heartbeat for his tell.

“Derek, I …” Stiles’ eyes flicked down to look at Derek’s mouth, knowing where this was going. Where it always went.

“Do you regret that night?” Derek’s voice sounded wrecked, almost begging for an answer.

Stiles opened his mouth to answer when a tapping on the doorframe jolted both of them away from the other.

“They’re heading up,” John informed them. His tone was amicable, but the look he gave Stiles told him to follow him out.

Derek nodded before taking his leave, slipping back out into the living room, leaving Stiles to the mercy of his father.

“You be careful, kiddo,” John stated when Derek was far enough away.

“He wouldn’t do anything I didn’t asked for, dad,” Stiles replied as he grasped his glass of wine, moving to pass by his father.

John grabbed Stiles’ bicep, halting him in his tracks. His grip was strong but gentle, preventing him from leaving. “I mean you,” he said as he looked at Stiles. “You don’t have the best track record when it comes to resisting Derek.”

Stiles looked down at the ground, wishing he could melt into the floor and disappear. “Yeah,” his voice was hoarse as he spoke. “I know that.”

John nodded, releasing Stiles before putting his arm around his shoulders as they both walked back into the living room.

Everything was smoother after that, Scott pretending to be surprised even though he sensed the gathering from the parking lot. Kira smiled as she kept a tight hold on Laura, her maternal instincts preventing her from letting go of her child for extending periods of time.

Stiles tried to spend his time with the random groups of people, wandering from one group to the next as he failed at not focusing on Derek. It was even harder for him when Kira placed Laura in Derek’s arms. Stiles blamed the fact that Derek looked like the sun when he smiled, and seeing Derek Hale smile at a baby he was holding was enough to give anyone a heart attack.

Everyone seemed to be amused by the fact that every time someone tried to take a turn holding Laura, she began to wail loudly until she was placed in Derek’s arms again. She even fussed when Kira or Scott tried to take her. Derek calmly told them it was fine, and that he didn’t mind holding onto her if they didn’t.

Stiles banished himself to the kitchen when everyone started to file out, busying himself with the dishes. He smiled when he felt a pair of hands clap down on his shoulders, followed by a grinning Scott leaning against the sink.

“Dude, I’m a dad,” Scott stated, unable to stop smiling.

“And I’m an uncle,” Stiles replied.

“I totally forgot about that!” Scott answered with the equal enthusiasm as his own statement.

“Where is she?” Stiles asked as he turned off the water, wiping his hands on the cup towel.

“Kira or Laura?” Scott asked as he reached around to get two beers from the fridge.

“Both,” Stiles replied.

“Kira went to bed. She’s still exhausted,” Scott easily yanked the caps off of the beers.

“Understandably,” Stiles stated as he took a beer from Scott.

“Derek’s still holding Laura,” Scott replied. “It’s the weirdest thing, she doesn’t want to let him go.”

“Maybe it’s a werewolf thing,” Stiles offered as he leaned against the counter. “She did seem attached to him at the hospital.”

“Yeah,” Scott was still beaming, preoccupied with thoughts of being a dad. “Derek’s holding Der-Bear right now so that his scent rubs off on it. He’s hoping that will be enough to keep her from howling once he leaves.”

“Hey!” Stiles turned to look at Scott. “That’s from me! She’s going to think it’s from him.”

“I’m sure your scent will still be on it,” Scott reassured him.

Stiles rolled his eyes as he moved from the kitchen to the living room. He looked around when he didn’t catch sight of Derek. He noticed Scott’s head perk up before he headed down the hallway towards the master bedroom.

Stiles joined Scott in poking their heads around the door and into the room. They noticed that Derek was still holding Laura, standing next to her bassinet as he talked to Kira.

“She’s attached,” Kira smiled from her spot reclining on the bed.

“She probably remembers me from the hospital,” Derek offered, looking down at Laura.

“She’s got you wrapped around her finger already,” Kira laughed a little as she spoke.

“Yeah,” Derek fondly replied, knowing he was beaten.

“So when do you want to babysit?” Kira was smirking, but Derek knew she had some sincerity in her tone.

“Whenever,” Derek replied, bending down to place Laura in her bassinet. He situated Der-Bear next to her, watching her respond to its close proximity.

Stiles felt a pull at his heart as he watched just how affected Derek was by Laura. He almost wished he always knew this side of Derek. He had rarely seen the tender, loving side years ago, but it was usually there and gone in a flash. He had wished he latched on to the last time he saw Derek like this. When Derek would look at Stiles, baring himself with no mask to hide behind. But Stiles had tried to remove the mask a few times too soon, and he knew he shattered it in his clumsiness, and caused more damage than he could have imagined.

Stiles and Scott pretended that they didn’t see anything when Derek exited the room, but the look on his face told them that he knew. Scott offered Derek a beer, the three of them spending another hour talking and reminiscing about everything Derek missed over the years.

It wasn’t until Stiles and Derek parted from Scott, making their way down to the parking lot, that Stiles began to panic. He was nervous that Derek would want a response to the question his father interrupted earlier. How was he supposed to answer that question without digging himself into a bigger hole?

“So, uh, how has Beacon Hills been treating you?” Stiles asked when he couldn’t keep quiet any longer.

“Good,” Derek replied, keeping his eyes focused on the steps. “I have a job offer,” he explained.

“Oh, really? That’s great!” Stiles wished he hadn’t sounded so enthusiastic. He felt like it was bordering on creepy overjoy.

“I think so,” Derek had a small smile on his lips.

Silence hung over them once again until they reached Stiles’ Jeep.

“So,” Stiles started, turning his body to face Derek, keys jingling in his hand. “About earlier. About what I said,” he looked down at Derek’s shoes, pondering how it was best to get over this.

“I’m sorry about that night too,” Derek commented, causing Stiles to look up at him. “I acted out of line. And I shouldn’t have.”

“That’s not …” Stiles frown before releasing a deep breath. “Can we both just agree we messed up? Water under the bridge?” He looked hopeful.

“Water under the bridge,” Derek nodded in confirmation.

“Okay,” Stiles forced a small smile. He wanted to let that night go but he still clung feeling as if they didn’t resolve what happened.

After giving each other a small wave and a partial promise to see each other later, Stiles sat in his Jeep as he watched Derek head for the Camaro. He waited until Derek was gone before he slammed his head against the steering wheel. He jumped back when his forehead sounded the horn. He groaned, uncertain how he was supposed to deal with his feelings for Derek now that he was back in Beacon Hills.

“You are _not_ , under _any_ circumstance, going to sleep with Derek,” Stiles lectured himself. “You’re an adult now, and so is Derek. You both can handle yourselves.” He took a deep breath as he looked in the rearview mirror. “Water under the bridge,” he whispered to himself. “Yeah, right,” he scoffed to himself as he started the Jeep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long weekend at Anime Boston, so this chapter is subject to editing! But enjoy for now!

**_November of Stiles’ Senior Year of College_**

Derek didn’t bother to look at his phone as the ringtone cut through the night’s silence. “Hello?” his voice grumbled as his wolf yawned to go back to sleep. He was exhausted from the full moon, and this phone call had better be important enough to wake him.

“Derek?” Stiles’ voice sounded weak and frightened, a hint of uncertainty.

Derek went completely rigid, his body waking up immediately. “Stiles, what’s wrong?” He was awake and alert as he shoved the sheets away from his body, moving through the darkness in the loft to find his discarded shirt.

“I’m scared,” Stiles breathed out, his voice breaking with weight of whatever was affecting him.

“What happened?” Derek tried to stay calm, even as he started to grab his jacket and keys, prepared to head out on the first flight to Massachusetts.

“My dad,” Stiles admitted. “Derek, he’s been shot.” He let out a heavy sob. “What if he… Derek, what if—”

“Stiles, calm your breathing,” Derek instructed him, moving as quickly as he could to exit the loft. “You’re going to have a panic attack.”

“I’m scared,” Stiles’ broken voice repeated. “All I can do is stand here and wait for them to tell me … what if they tell me there’s nothing they can do?”

“You’re back in Beacon Hills?”

“My flight just got in,” Stiles admitted.

“I’m coming,” Derek stated reassuringly.

“What? No,” Stiles started.

“You’re at the hospital?” Derek ignored Stiles protest as he made his way downstairs to the Cruiser.

“In the ER … Derek, you don’t have to …”

“Do you want me there?” Derek asked, hesitating for the first time.

“I …” Stiles took a deep breath before whispering, “Yes.”

“I’ll be there soon,” Derek confirmed. “Do you want me to stay on the phone with you?”

“I’m using the phone at the nurse’s station,” Stiles explained. “I don’t think—”

“I’ll be there soon, Stiles,” Derek repeated.

“Okay,” Stiles’ voice croaked.

Derek knew he sped, but something told him even if he was stopped, they would let him go. He wasn’t in the mood to listen to people telling him he was breaking the law, and he knew the look on his face would make anyone back off. Stiles was sitting in the ER—alone for all Derek knew—and he reached out for him. He wanted Derek there with him, and Derek wasn’t going to waste a second getting to him. _You’re so far gone,_ he thought to himself. And it wasn’t until he saw Stiles in the ER that he realized just how gone he was.

Stiles was reclining across a row of chairs, his body partially curled. Exhaustion won over him, passing out as his brain swam with the various thoughts of how he was going to lose his father. Derek ignored the nurse who asked him if he needed help, walking straight over to Stiles. He ran his eyes over Stiles, suddenly realizing that this was the first time they were seeing each other since they fought.

It was the night before Stiles was heading back to Brandeis, and Stiles mentioned that people were asking him about dating. _Person_ , he growled at the memory. Stiles had asked Derek permission to see other people, to actually be in a monogamous relationship with someone else. A monogamous relationship that meant the end of what they had been sharing the past two years. And like the grown manchild he was when it came to his pride, Derek told him it was none of his business if Stiles wanted to date someone. Stiles boiled over with rage and threw the closest thing he could grab at Derek’s head—which happened to be the bottle of lube they had just been using not five minutes before. Derek hadn’t heard anything from Stiles after that night, and to say that getting a phone call from him in the middle of the night would have made him happy was an understatement. But not like this.

Derek knelt next to Stiles, his fingertips brushing a few strands of Stiles’ hair off his forehead. Stiles moved in his sleep, mumbling something that mirrored Derek’s name. He didn’t want to wake him, knowing the minute he woke up would mean the marathon Stiles liked to call ‘sleep deprivation’ would begin. There was no way Stiles would allow himself to sleep while his dad fought for his life.

Derek shrugged his leather jacket off of his shoulders, gently laying it over Stiles’ torso. He held back his smile as he watched Stiles cuddle into the warmth the jacket was providing him. He pulled his eyes away from Stiles, moving to find the nurse he previously ignored to find out anything new about the Sheriff’s situation. And he lied to himself about the reasons he continued to sneak glances at Stiles’ sleeping form, convincing himself that he wasn’t completely wrecked by the very thought of Stiles with someone else. Trying to convince himself, at least.

Stiles stirred, pulling himself out of his dream when he realized that he wasn’t in his bed at Brandeis. He was reclined across some uncomfortable hospital chairs. In Beacon Hill’s ER. Because his dad was shot. He inhaled a deep breath as he sat up, pulling the leather jacket around him as he enjoyed the warmth it offered. It took Stiles a minute to realize that he didn’t have a leather jacket with him when he came to the hospital.

 _Derek_.

Stiles perked up as he looked around him, disappointed when he didn’t catch sight of a certain brooding werewolf. He stood, shifting the jacket around to drape it over his shoulders, wrapping his arms around his waist. He wandered outside the waiting room to search the hallways. He found Derek standing in front of the coffee dispensing machine. His grip on the jacket tightened, guilt rising up in his chest. He panicked when the nurse had told him that his father was in his second surgery. He barely remembered what the nurse was telling him, the only image he could cling to was the thought of his father bleeding to death on the operating table. He realized that in all the confusion, he actually managed to leave his cell phone back in his dorm when he hopped onto the first plane ride back home. He panicked and immediately started dialing Derek’s phone number on the nurse’s phone.

“Derek,” Stiles’ voice was tired, forcing him to clear his throat to make it easier to speak.

Derek turned and looked at Stiles, immediately ignoring the coffee he was getting—regardless of the fact that it was for Stiles. He offered a faint smile, uncertain how to approach the circumstances of their reunion. He didn’t argue when Stiles took the few strides between them, almost slamming his body into Derek’s as he wrapped his arms around his neck. Derek immediately wrapped his arms around Stiles’ waist, tightly pressing their bodies together as he supported most of Stiles’ weight.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles’ voice was muffled by Derek’s shoulder. “I didn’t know who I could call. I just … I needed to see you,” he admitted. He knew it was Derek’s phone number he was dialing at the time, but he couldn’t think of anyone else he wanted to see at that moment. He should have called Noah, letting him know he came home. What was happening with his dad, and the fact that he was now clinging to his sort-of-ex sort-of-boyfriend.

“It’s okay that you called me.”

Stiles closed his eyes, enjoying the rumble of Derek’s chest against his as he spoke.

“I was thinking about calling you,” Derek confessed. “I _should_ have called you sooner.”

Stiles opened his eyes, uncertain he was hearing Derek correctly. _Derek never calls me. We occasionally text …_ Every warning in Stiles’ head began to rang as he ran through what was happening. He had asked Derek about dating other people. He was tired of waiting. He was tired of hurting every time he left Derek’s bed with an empty promise that he’d possibly have a future with him. He started being selfish and wanted more even though he told Derek it was enough.

Stiles let out a breath of relief when Derek changed the subject and asked, “What have you heard?”

Stiles explained everything he could to Derek, saying that he wasn’t certain how or when his father was going to be out of surgery. “I don’t … I don’t even know if he will get out of surgery,” he stated, taking solace in the warm weight of Derek’s arm stretched across his back. They were sitting back in the waiting room, anxiously waiting for something. He pushed into Derek’s warmth, letting his body curl up against his side.

“You should get some sleep,” Derek commented as he kept his eye on the nurses.

“I can’t,” Stiles argued, closing his eyes as he focused on Derek’s breathing.

“You’re dad’s heartbeat is soft but strong,” Derek stated.

Stiles looked up at Derek, surprise covering his face.

“I can hear it if I concentrate,” Derek explained.

“I wish I could hear it,” Stiles stated, resting his head back on Derek’s chest. He tried not to cling to Derek tighter when he felt Derek’s hand rest against his hip. He felt Derek begin to rhythmically tap his middle and index fingers against him. It only took Stiles a few moments to realize Derek was tapping out a heartbeat.

“Thank you,” Stiles whispered into Derek’s chest, fighting back the tears.

“Get some sleep,” Derek stated. It was as if he read Stiles mind when he added, “I won’t stop.”

It only took Stiles a few minutes before he fell asleep to the sound of Derek’s breathing and the faint feeling of his father’s heartbeat.

Stiles was grateful when Derek woke him, the nurse giving them the best news they could get. Stiles wanted to argue that he wanted to see his father, despite visiting hours. The only thing stopping him was Derek’s comforting hand on his shoulder and his calming voice telling him that they’d wait in the waiting room until they could see his father.

Stiles turned into Derek’s embrace when the nurse left them, clinging to Derek’s body like an anchor. He didn’t mean to do it, knowing that he was in the wrong. He knew what he was about to do was wrong. He knew he had a boyfriend back in Massachusetts. He knew Derek couldn’t be what he wanted him to be. He knew he was terrible for doing it. But he didn’t care.

Stiles pushed up onto the pads of his feet, digging his fingers into Derek’s shirt as he clung to him. He kissed Derek, waiting for him to respond. It didn’t take long for Derek to hold him tightly to his chest, like he was the most precious thing in the world. Stiles deepened the kiss, the complete opposite of the chaste kiss he had originally intended.

And just like that, Stiles was kissing Derek, betraying everyone. But it only really hurt when he thought about Derek. _I’m pathetic. I’m trash_ , he thought. He wanted to let Derek go but couldn’t, and he hated himself for it. But it didn’t stop him from clinging to Derek, even when he was about to pull out of his grasp completely.

~0~0~0~0~0~

_**Present-day** _

“Stiles, I’m on duty,” Derek replied, trying to keep his eyes off of Stiles.

“You could have locked your door,” Stiles smiled as he looked over at Derek.

“What?” Derek finally looked over at Stiles, surprised by his words.

“You saw me heading over,” Stiles replied as he gestured towards his Jeep. “Your cruiser would have caught sight of me heading over from the minute I got out of my Jeep.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Derek sighed, the laugh evident in his voice.

“How’s your first shift?” Stiles asked as he looked over at the school as they watched the little kids rushing to their parents.

“Good,” Derek replied. He sighed before offering Stiles a quick ‘I’ll be right back,’ exiting the police cruiser as he headed over to a group of mom’s blocking the handicap ramp.

Stiles didn’t bother pretending that he wasn’t staring at Derek’s ass in his uniform. He smiled to himself as he noted that Derek looked like a potential male stripper. He noticed the way one of the women placed a hand on Derek’s bicep, laughing as she offered some excuse before moving. He rolled his eyes when the moms all watched Derek leave them to head back to the cruiser.

“It’s nice to have an easy first time, but this is pressing my patience,” Derek stated as he got into the cruiser.

“You have some admirers,” Stiles stated as he gestured at the moms.

“And you’re going to pretend that you weren’t _admiring_ ,” Derek mused.

“You fill out that uniform rather nicely,” Stiles offered.

“You do know your dad wears the same uniform, right?” Derek smiled when Stiles groaned.

“Why do you have to bring up my dad?” Stiles looked out his window, trying to calm the evident blush on his cheeks from their flirting.

Over the past months, Derek and Stiles grew closer, a mutual understanding that they could be friendly without that ruining their lives. They even fell back into the rhythm of sarcastically flirting with one another without it being strange. Stiles wasn’t sure what it all meant, but he was positive it meant it was all going to hit a tipping point. It became habitual for Stiles to visit Derek every now and again when he was working in the station. It was the first time Derek was out by himself, and it was too tempting to not check in on him.

“You have Laura tonight?” Derek asked as he kept his eyes on the school.

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” Stiles replied, looking over at Derek. “Scott keeps freaking out, even though Kira is reassuring him that it’s going to be okay.”

“Scott worries about everything,” Derek commented.

“Yeah, he does,” Stiles replied. “I’m a little nervous since it’s my first time with her,” he explained. “Scared she might freak and hate me.”

Derek’s laugh made Stiles scrunch his eyebrows together, thinking he was laughing at his insecurities. “She loves you, Stiles. You’ll be great,” he stated as he gave him a smile.

Stiles was not great.

Stiles was panicking.

Stiles was calling Derek.

“Stiles?” Derek’s voice was surprised.

“I think I broke her!” Stiles yelled into the phone, Laura’s screams echoing in the background. “Derek, she won’t stop! Why won’t she stop?!”

“She’s upset,” Derek stated.

“You don’t think I can tell that?!” Stiles almost exclaimed in fear.

“I’m heading over,” Derek informed him.

It didn’t take Derek very long to get to Stiles. Stiles nearly pushed Laura into Derek’s arms the minute he stepped foot over the threshold. Laura continued to whine as she pushed into Derek’s chest, her limbs moving through the air as she struggled.

“I changed her. I fed her. I burped her. I don’t know what to do, and I didn’t want to call Scott and Kira, because then Scott would never let me babysit again,” Stiles rambled.

Derek listened to Stiles as he inspected Laura, trying to determine the problem. “I think she might have gas,” he finally stated.

“What?” Stiles looked at Derek. “Babies can have gas?”

Derek arched his eyebrow at Stiles. “All humans do.”

“But I thought it wouldn’t get stuck in babies,” Stiles argued, following Derek over to the couch. He watched as he placed Laura down, gently rubbing his fingertips over the sides of her stomach. He eased up when she let out a particularly loud cry.

“Is she okay?” Stiles asked as he peered over Derek’s shoulder.

“She will be,” Derek replied, gently massaging the side of Laura’s stomach. It didn’t take long before Laura’s tears subsided and she was back to being a quiet, content baby.

“Oh my God, you did it,” Stiles whispered in amazement.

“I’ll change her if you want,” Derek offered as he reached for a diaper.

“You don’t have to,” Stiles replied. “I feel bad making you come over and fix a problem, just to make you also change a diaper on top of that.”

“It’s okay,” Derek stated.

Stiles quickly grabbed the diaper and wipes, handing them to Derek. He noticed how quickly Derek managed to change Laura, surprised as he recalled his few failed attempts the first couple of times.

“You’re good at that,” Stiles commented when Derek finally lifted Laura up into his arms, resting her against his chest as she began to fall asleep.

“I used to change Cora’s diapers,” Derek explained.

Stiles snickered as he pictured Cora as a baby in diapers.

Derek stayed until Laura fell asleep, happily reclining on the couch as he and Stiles waited for Scott and Kira to pick up Laura.

“She loves you,” Stiles observed, watching Laura’s sleeping form curled up on Derek’s chest.

“She knows I’m a werewolf,” Derek explained. “Born wolves can sense when someone is human, or like them.”

“Maybe that’s why she doesn’t like me,” Stiles offered a small laugh.

“She loves you,” Derek replied, looking at Stiles. “I’ve never seen a born werewolf child accept a human as quickly as she has with you. Let alone a baby.”

“You’re just trying to make me feel better,” Stiles replied, focusing on flickering through the channels on the television.

“I’m just telling you what I’ve seen,” Derek turned his attention back to Laura.

Stiles never expected Derek would become such an integrated part of his life, but after his emergency call that night, they both grew closer. Laura became a bonding point for them, allowing them the ability to focus all the their energy on without negatively affecting the other. Stiles remembered the day it all turned upside down.

Stiles and Derek offered to bring Laura to the annual autumn festival while Scott and Kira were working, devising a plan to meet up with them later that day. Laura huffed and puffed in her stroller, annoyed that she was stuck in the contraption as she watched other children run around and play. After enough fussing, Derek finally caved and pulled her out of the stroller.

“You can’t do that,” Stiles jokingly chastised Derek.

“I’m her godfather, I can spoil her,” Derek replied, securing his arm around Laura’s body as he balanced her weight on his hip.

“Great, now I’m the evil one,” Stiles stated in mocked hurt.

“You’re mad that you’re not the troublemaker anymore,” Derek stated, making a small face at Laura.

“Okay, stop it,” Stiles suddenly demanded. “I can not take another second of Derek Hale making faces at babies to make them laugh. You are making every woman we pass grin like an idiot.”

“You were grinning earlier,” Derek commented, keeping their walking pace.

“You were singing Frozen,” Stiles countered. “I can grin at that because a normally broody werewolf singing ‘Let It Go’ to make a child laugh is pure gold.”

Derek rolled his eyes, attempting to hide the faint blush that swept across his features, turning the tips of his ears pink.

Laura made a noise of surprise, causing Derek and Stiles to look where she was gesturing. She was staring at a group of kids playing in the playground, laughing and screaming in joy.

“You want to go see what they are doing?” Derek asked as he looked at Laura.

“She can’t walk even walk yet, Derek,” Stiles’ protective instincts started to kick in. “What if she gets picked on?”

Derek turned his head to give Stiles a look that told him he was imagining worst-case scenarios.

“Okay, okay. You win. But after this, I want fried dough or something,” Stiles grumbled.

“It’s like I have two babies,” Derek shot back as he started to walk over to the playground with Laura.

“You love it,” Stiles mumbled under his breath, moving the stroller with him to sit on the closest empty bench.

“I’d rather one of the babies grow up and have some fun,” Derek’s voice surprised Stiles, causing him to look up and mockingly scowl at him.

Stiles reclined against the bench as he watched Derek hold Laura tightly against his chest as he knelt by the playground’s perimeter. Derek pointed to one of the swings, noticing how Laura’s eyes sparkled as she watched the children playing. It had been almost a half a year that Derek and Stiles were officially co-op moding godfather privileges, trying to spend time here and there with Scott and Kira as they babysat Laura. Stiles would admit that the first six months of Laura’s life was spent panicking that he did something wrong. It wasn’t until Derek started helping him, revealing a completely different side of himself—a side Stiles always secretly knew Derek had—that Stiles started to feel at ease.

“Which one’s yours?” a female voice interrupted Stiles’ thoughts, prompting him to look up at the owner.

“Oh, that one,” Stiles pointed over to Laura, his heart skipping a beat when he saw Derek holding Laura’s hands, helping her walk forward with her feet firmly planted on his own.

“Oh,” the woman sounded impressed as she looked at where Stiles pointed.

“Yup. My two favorite cuties,” Stiles stated as he waved at Derek. _My two favorite cuties?! What the hell, Stiles!_ He started to panic, easing a little when Derek offered a wave back to him.

“How old is she?” the woman asked, turning her body towards Stiles’ as they spoke.

“Eleven months. Almost her big first year,” Stiles smiled as he thought about the party he was helping Kira plan.

“She’s beautiful,” the woman stated.

“Thanks,” Stiles replied. _Why am I thanking her? What the hell is wrong with me?_

“Is she yours or your husband’s?” the woman asked.

 _Husband?_ Stiles turned his head to look at the woman, staring at her as if she had three heads. His eyes widened as he looked back at Derek and Laura. _Oh God!_

“Um, she’s not ours,” Stiles stated in a rush.

“Oh. Did you adopt?”

_What is this, twenty questions?_

“No. She’s a friend’s, actually,” Stiles looked at Derek, wishing there was a discreet way to signal to him.

“I wish my husband played with our daughter like that,” the woman commented as she—and Stiles—watched Derek playfully swing Laura back and forth securely in his arms.

Stiles didn’t want to argue with the woman anymore, because part of Stiles wanted her to be right. He wanted _this_. He didn’t want to have to give Laura up at the end of the day. _Or_ Derek, for that matter. It was hard for Stiles to concentrate on the woman when he stayed focused on Derek and Laura.

“Hey,” Derek smiled at him as he came closer to both Stiles and the woman.

“I was just telling your husband how beautiful your daughter is,” the woman explained.

Stiles’ eyes widened and he felt like it was the end of his life. _This is it. This is the big one. I’m going into the light_.

“Thank you,” Derek smiled at the woman before calmly looking down at Stiles. “Ready to go, _honey_?” There was an element of playful banter in Derek’s tone as he spoke, taking Stiles off guard.

It took Stiles a minute to catch on before he gave Derek a knowing smile. “Yes, _dear_.” He couldn’t help but grin when he caught onto Derek rolling his eyes. “It was nice meeting you,” he offered to the woman as they parted from the bench.

“You too,” the woman called after them.

When they were far enough away, Derek finally questioned, “Husband?”

“Okay, I panicked,” Stiles started. “But I blame you and acting like father of the ducking year back there,” he quickly explained. (Sometimes is was hard for Stiles to believe he agreed to say ‘ducking’ opposed to ‘fucking’ around Laura, at Scott’s insistence).

“So you told her we are married?” Derek questioned.

Stiles was positive Derek didn’t seem mad—more confused than anything else—which he would take as a win. “She kind of just asked if Laura’s was mine or my husband’s in reference to you,” he nervously rubbed the back of his neck as he kept pace with Derek.

“She’d be mine,” Derek commented.

“Woah,” Stiles grabbed Derek’s arm to halt him. “Are we saying, that in our nonexistent but hypothetical marriage, _you_ would be the one to father the child?”

“I’m saying a child that looks like Laura,” Derek put Laura on display for Stiles to see her as he spoke. “Would be biologically mine.”

“She could be mine,” Stiles argued, even though he knew Derek was right. Biologically, Scott and Derek could pass as brothers before Scott and Stiles could.

“Yours would be fair skinned and have freckles,” Derek stated.

“Well what if I wanted to father the child?” Stiles continued to argue, lost in their story.

“I didn’t say you couldn’t,” Derek replied. “How about this Stiles,” he sighed, releasing a faint chuckle. “In our nonexistent, hypothetical marriage—in which we decide to father children—we both can father a child.”

Stiles eyes Derek carefully, like he was trying to find the flaw. “Alright, deal.”

“You’re unbelievable,” Derek muttered.

“I’ll put you in the doghouse when we get home, _dear_ ,” Stiles mocked. He repressed a laugh at Derek glared at him. “What’s that, Lassie? Is Timmy in the well?” He asked in false concern.

“I take it back. All your fathering privileges have been revoked,” Derek stated.

“Oh come on,” Stiles complained. “Laura, don’t you want a baby brother?”

Laura giggled as she hid her face in Derek’s neck.

“Apparently not,” Derek replied.

“You spoil her,” Stiles countered.

“You can spoil the next one,” Derek answered.

~0~0~0~0~0~

**_Winter Break, Stiles’ Senior Year of College_**

“Go home, Stiles,” Derek bit out as Stiles pushed his way into the loft.

“That’s all you have to say?” Stiles asked in an accusatory tone. “Because this is your fault, too!”

“My fault?” Derek mocked Stiles’ words. “I’m leaving in the morning, Stiles. And I don’t feel like having this conversation with you,” he stated in an angered tone, moving past Stiles as he walked further into the loft.

“Well too bad,” Stiles responded as he followed Derek. After having nearly two years of endless sex and getting to know one another, Stiles wasn’t as intimidated by Derek any more.

“Leave,” Derek’s voice was sterner as he demanded Stiles get out before he did something he regretted.

“Why, Derek?” Stiles questioned. “What, can you smell him on me? Can you smell the last time I had sex with him?” He was goading Derek, but he didn’t care. He was pissed at Derek for what he did. “Is that why you couldn’t just growl at him? You had to let it fly that I used to let you _fuck_ me?” He was hoping every word was hurting Derek as much as it was hurting him to say them.

“Get out,” Derek’s voice was softer now, almost inaudible as he kept his back towards Stiles.

“I didn’t do anything wrong, Derek,” Stiles continued to talk. “We never agreed to not moving on. We had our chance, and we both walked away. I didn’t want to wait anymore. I wanted someone to _love_ me, and that’s not a crime, Derek. But you’re having a fucking tantrum, acting like I’m cheating on you.”

“You never told me you had a boyfriend,” Derek finally spoke. “You called me, begging to see me. So tell me, Stiles,” he turned to look at him, eyes cold and calculating as he scanned Stiles’ features. “If you wanted someone to love you so badly, and finally had him, why was I the one holding you while your father went through surgery?”

“That’s not fair—”

“You don’t get to make an excuse for that!” Derek’s voice rose for the first time they started talking.

 _At least we are talking_ , Stiles thought as he recalled the way Derek glared at him throughout the party, forcing a smile when the others looked at him.

“I let you go,” Derek stated. “I let you move on and be with someone. I get that. But you don’t get to lie to me.”

Stiles felt like shrinking in on himself.

“You can’t even deny it, can you?” Derek questioned. “Why did you kiss me at the hospital if you were with him? Why bring him home?”

Stiles wish he could say, _Because bringing him home made it final_. He was afraid he’s admit, _Because I thought you’d fight for me._

“He wasn’t here,” Stiles stated instead. “He wasn’t here, and I needed someone.”

Derek stared at Stiles, his stomach flipping and dropping the moment he didn’t detect a lie. “You’re pathetic,” he finally stated. “Get out.”

“What do you want me to say, Derek?” Stiles asked, not moving from his spot. “What do you want to hear me say? You want me to tell you that you’re better than him?”

 _Yes_. “Stiles—”

“That you’re a better fuck? That he can’t quite fuck me like you do? That sometimes I have to do tricks here and there to get myself off?”

Derek’s wolf growled, anger rising with every word. He knew Stiles was fucking _Noah_ , that they were dating. He smelled the familiar scent of a stranger’s sex on Stiles, but he never let his thoughts hang on it as he wiped those scents away with his own. Because his wolf was happy being able to be the one reoccurring scent—to be the one Stiles always came back to. But it was different smelling _Stiles_ on someone else. He recalled the way Scott stiffened when Stiles and Noah walked into the loft, Scott’s puppy eyes widening as he stared at Derek. It was the biggest slap in the face Stiles could have managed to give Derek, and the entire pack knew it.

“Or do you want to hear how I _let_ him spread me out on the bed, writhing underneath him as I _beg_ for it? How after he’s done, he tells me he _loves me_?”

Derek’s wolf finally snapped.

“Why. Are. You. Here.” Derek’s teeth were clenched tight, his fangs growing with every second.

The silence between them grew, and neither knew how to end it. How could they move on when they fucked up so bad all those years ago.

“You … You could never fight for me, could you?” Stiles’ voice was broken, causing Derek to turn and look at him.

“What do you _want_ , Stiles?” Derek asked again, this time his voice was tired and rough from the exertion.

Stiles opened his mouth to speak, but nothing would come out. He wanted to confess that he fucked up, that everything was a mistake. That leaving that night was a mistake and a lie. That asking to see other people was to see if Derek _would_ fight for him. He wanted to say, _You. I just want you_.

But only the silence dragged on.

They had more than one night of wild and passionate sex, probably on almost every surface of the loft, but that night was completely different. There were times—though few—when they would cling to each other, Derek’s lips running over every inch of Stiles’ body as he tried to heal the scars of the past; Stiles’ voice hitching and panting Derek’s name in ecstasy as they gently rocked against one another. It was the only time Stiles would ever classified himself as ‘making love,’ with anyone. He never felt the way he felt with Derek when he was with Noah—with anyone. He knew he grew to love Noah, but he was _in_ love with Derek, and there was a big difference. Derek haunted his every thought, no matter what it was, his brain seemed to always lead his thinking right back to Derek.

Stiles never felt like he was being taken apart, touch by touch. This was the first time Derek treated him like this, as if he was the last thing in the world, as if they belonged to each other and no one else. Even though they both knew it was a lie, they had this night, just like every other night they shared—there was nothing but the two of them. And that was fine with Stiles, because it was Derek. He remembered the way Derek wrapped his arms around him, the slow rock of his hips as Stiles writhed in his lap. His legs wrapped around Derek’s waist, his arms pinned between their chest as his nails dug into Derek’s skin, a weak attempt to keep Derek here with him—to keep him from leaving. He closed his eyes as he memorized the way Derek’s body moved against his, the feel of his muscles under his hands, the way Derek moved _in_ him.

A shutter ran through his body as Derek ran a hand over the scars the wendigo left on his back. He loved that Derek only ever looked at them lovingly, as if he was thankful they were there instead of the wounds they replaced. Stiles didn’t have to lie to Derek. He didn’t have to tell the same stupid story he told every other person who asked when they saw them. Derek was there when he got them, and he understood the terror and pain they hold. Derek only ever showered them with attention as they healed, caring for Stiles’ body like it was a sacred object. Derek killed the thing that made those scars.

Stiles panted against Derek’s lips, a weak ‘I love you’ escaping his throat. He wished he hadn’t said it, that it never tumbled from his lips. He wished Derek let him fall apart in his arms instead of pulling away the way he did.

Derek continued to move, to act as if he hadn’t heard Stiles’ confession—a confession he hadn’t admitted since the first time they had sex. He released Stiles from his arms, laying him back on the bed as he pulled out of him. That was how Stiles knew he had heard him.

Stiles almost whimpered as he reached for Derek, about to apologize for his stupidity, to beg him to keep going. He didn’t protest when Derek uttered, “Turn over.” He blinked back his tears as he turned his body, bracing himself on his hands and knees, presenting himself for Derek. He swallowed down the lump in his throat, ignoring the way his heart was breaking as Derek pushed back into him. They rarely had sex like this, and that was when Stiles realized his mistake. He messed up and let himself stay in love with Derek, trying to keep him here with him when he was trying to get away. This was Derek rejecting him all over again. This was Derek making it impersonal; just sex. He pressed his face into the pillow, inhaling deeply to try and calm himself, forcing the sharp sob down.

Derek’s moves were erratic, harsher than before. He made his thrusts slow and deep, hard as they pushed past everything prior to that night. Stiles let out a noise of surprise when Derek spread his legs further apart, his hand elevating Stiles’ hips for a better angle. Derek had moved Stiles’ hands to rest against the headboard, moving Stiles into a sitting position, and that was when Stiles broke down. He clamped his eyes shut, letting his mouth fall open as Derek’s hips started to actively pound into him. He let himself cry the moment his orgasm hit, coming untouched. He could blame the tears on the orgasm, instead of admitting that his heart shattered, knowing he wasn’t going to be able to pick up the pieces.

Derek clutched Stiles to his chest, easing both of them back onto the bed. He pulled out of Stiles, rolling his body over to lay beside him. He noticed the way Stiles kept his body turned away from Derek, his face pressed into one of the pillows. He was concerned he had hurt him, reaching a hand out to touch his shoulder when he caught the scent coming from Stiles. _Guilt_. He immediately withdrew his hand from him, turning on his side as he tried to ignore the once comforting sound of Stiles’ beating heart.

And because Stiles was a true masochist when it came to his feelings for Derek, he curled up next to him after Derek fell asleep that night, wrapping his arm and leg around his body as he used his chest as a pillow. He listened to Derek’s breathing, trying to memorize the rhythm as he ignored the tear that fell from his eyes, exhaustion forcing him fall asleep. He wasn’t surprised when he woke up alone the next morning, Derek’s few duffle bags gone. He didn’t bother hiding how hard he could still cry over Derek as he curled his legs up to his chest, refusing to answer his buzzing phone as he shut out a world without Derek Hale in it.

“Cora—” Derek was trying to get a word in as she continued to yell on the other line. He was trying to stay in control as his grip on the steering wheel tightened. He left as soon as he woke up to Stiles’ sleeping on his chest. He pretended that he wasn’t awake when Stiles curled up next to him, like it wasn’t killing him inside that Stiles just used him to cheat on _his boyfriend_. He couldn’t go through it all again. He couldn’t watch Stiles get up and walk out of the loft, not when he knew he was going back to someone else. So, he slipped out from under Stiles’ hold, telling himself that the soft kiss he placed against Stiles’ lips meant nothing. That the tear he wiped away meant less.

“I don’t care, Derek! He’s an asshole! You don’t treat someone like that!” Cora had him on speakerphone as she paced back and forth. “He’s playing the victim as he takes what he wants from you!”

“And I let him,” Derek replied. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine! He should have told you he was dating someone else! And then that bullshit how he comes to you the night before you leave!” Cora let out an exasperated sigh. “He just wanted a goodbye fuck.”

Derek winced, grateful Cora couldn’t see him. His gratefulness immediately disappeared when Cora went silent. _Maybe I lost the call_ , he hoped.

“You didn’t,” Cora’s voice cut through his car.

“Cora—”

“Tell me you didn’t, Derek. Tell me you didn’t sleep with him,” Cora was almost begging.

“It was one last fuck to get out of his system,” Derek replied. He could walk away if Stiles just saw him as a dick attached to a body—something to get his frustrations out with. That Stiles coming to him the night before he left, while Noah was most likely sleeping in Stiles’ bed as he waited for him to come back, meant nothing more than an itch Stiles had to scratch.

“It wasn’t just a fuck for you,” Cora’s voice was soft, knowing that Derek wouldn’t admit it to himself.

“Stiles Stilinski is no longer my problem, Cora,” Derek’s voice was cold as he spoke, sliding the mask he kept on since the fire back on. The mask Stiles had almost shattered completely was the only thing that was going to get him through this.

“Derek,” Cora started before releasing a sigh. “You’re both fucked. Just … just come home soon,” she stated.

“Yeah,” Derek weakly replied, knowing that a place without Stiles was never going to be _home_.

~0~0~0~0~0~

 **_Laura’s First Birthday_**  

Scott made his rounds around the group of friends, smiling as he placed Laura on display. Stiles smiled at Scott before he excused himself to help Kira and Lydia in the kitchen.

“Hey,” Stiles greeted Kira who was busy placing candles on the cake. He felt somewhat uneasy when he realized a majority of the moms were huddled in here with Kira as they continued their small talk.

“Hey!” Kira smiled as she looked up.

Stiles moved to stand next to Lydia, looking over her shoulder as he observed the list she was writing. “Are you taking inventory of the presents?” He questioned.

“It’ll make it easier when Scott and Kira send out thank you cards,” Lydia explained.

“Is everyone here?” Kira questioned Stiles as she observed the cake from a different angle.

“Pretty much,” Stiles replied. “Derek called and said that he was on his way.” He noticed the way some of the women reacted, whispering and giggling to themselves. Stiles bristled when he realized they were interested in him.

Stiles moved out into the back yard, settling himself among the numerous chairs Melissa placed along the lawn. He rocked back and forth, letting everyone accumulate around him. He knew when Derek arrived, hearing Laura’s scream of approval. He watched the children running around the yard, scurrying into the bouncy castle Scott desperately begged Kira about renting. _He’ll never stop being a kid_ , he fondly smiled.

“Hey,” Derek’s voice greeted him.

Stiles looked over his shoulder, noticing Derek was standing behind him, holding onto Laura. “Hey,” he smiled at him. “How was work?”

“Good,” Derek replied. “I almost think I prefer pulling people over for speeding than risking this,” he nearly mumbled as he gestured towards the group of women still obviously ogling him.

“You’re hot and holding a baby. Of course they want you,” Stiles smiled as he took Laura from Derek.

“I’m not interested in them,” Derek commented as he placed his hands in his pockets.

Stiles stole a quick glance at Derek, noticing he was still in his uniform. The damn uniform that made him irresistible. “Didn’t have time to change?”

“Unfortunately,” Derek noted as he observed the rest of the party.

“I’m sure my dad would let you borrow some clothes,” Stiles offered.

“I’m fine,” Derek replied.

Stiles nodded, gently bouncing Laura up and down on his lap. He smiled as he listened to her giggling.

Derek gently leaned against Stiles’ chair, smiling to himself as he watched Laura grab at Stiles. He reached down and brushed Laura’s hair back behind her ear.

“I can’t believe she’s a year old,” Stiles commented, his gaze stuck on Laura.

“A lot can happen in a year,” Derek commented.

“Yeah, it can,” Stiles looked up at Derek, noticing for the first time how close he was. He smiled up at him, feeling a pull of familiarity and want. He wanted to be able to be like this with Derek. He wanted to be able to share a moment like this together and have it mean more. To actually be together.

“Um, so I wanted to ask you something,” Stiles started, looking at Laura. “It’s about the police family picnic coming up,” he pretended to be fixing Laura’s dress as she fussed in his arms. “And I was wondering—well, my dad was wondering, too—if you wanted to join us for it.”

“I thought it was for … families,” Derek started, his voice masked from all emotion.

“You’ve always been family, Derek,” Stiles stated.

There was a small silence before Derek answered, “That’d be … nice.” He looked away from Stiles, trying to fight the rising feeling he felt in his stomach.

“Okay,” Stiles smiled as he nodded, looking at Laura.

The rest of the party was pleasant, despite the fact that almost every woman was eyeing Derek. Stiles tried to ignore what he knew was the little green monster of jealousy rearing its ugly head, but he couldn’t help it. Derek on the other hand, seemed completely oblivious to it, which Stiles knew was a lie. It wasn’t until they were prepared to cut Laura’s cake that Stiles felt a warm, familiar hand against his lower back. He looked over his shoulder to see Derek standing behind him. He smiled at Derek, turning his head back to look at Laura, ignoring the wave of happiness pulsing throughout him. He smiled down at Laura, singing ‘Happy Birthday’ along with everyone.

“I want to get a picture of Laura with her godfathers,” Kira leaned over to inform Stiles and Derek after Scott blew out the candles.

Stiles moved with Derek to get behind Laura in her high chair. He leaned over Laura’s shoulder, smiling at the camera. He felt Derek leaned against him, placing his head on the other side of Laura. He placed a mental reminder to ask Kira for a copy.

~0~0~0~0~0~

It didn’t take the police family picnic for one of them to finally make a move. It had been a year of awkward babysitting and painfully obvious flirting.

Stiles agreed to take his father’s lunch to him at the station when Melissa called him from the hospital, explaining that she was working another shift and wouldn’t be able to do it. He didn’t bother processing that it was possibly another officer besides his father in his office when he seamlessly burst through the door in his usual cheery mood.

“Homemade lunch with lots of love!” Stiles announced.

“What?” The voice questioned as they turned around.

“Oh God! I’m so sorry,” Stiles started when he realized it was Derek. “I thought you were my dad and I was taunting him about eating healthy.”

“No wonder your dad begs me to let him cheat,” Derek gave a small chuckle when he saw Stiles’ shocked expression.

“I’ll have you know that my father is in better shape and health now, thanks to me,” Stiles defended his need to force his dad to eat better.

“I know,” Derek honestly replied.

“I, um,” Stiles started as he turned to set his dad’s lunch on his desk, butterflies rapidly multiplying in his stomach. “I wanted to thank you about keeping an eye on him, by the way,” he turned back to face Derek, leaning back against his dad’s desk as he observed him. He didn't know how to approach Derek, not since he realized just how much he still cared about him.

Derek was watching Stiles, slowly evaluating him. He paced his steps to be slow, approaching Stiles with ease when he heard Stiles’ heartbeat jump. He slowly reached to the side of Stiles, their chests only a few inches apart as Derek deposited the clipboard onto the desk. He placed his hands on the desk, on either side of Stiles’ hips, as he observed Stiles’ features.

“I, uh, I know you’re doing it as a favor, and I appreciate it,” Stiles started to ramble, a blush creeping onto his cheeks as he stared at Derek's chest.

“I know,” Derek replied.

“Derek,” Stiles’ voice broke as his eyes quickly darted up to Derek’s lips. “I don’t want to ruin this—us.”

“Neither do I,” Derek replied as he leaned closer.

“Good, good,” Stiles whispered.

Derek reached one hand up to cup Stiles’ cheek, his thumb gently caressing his cheekbone. Every thought screaming at Stiles to back away and keep things simple and friendly completely disappeared. Stiles nodded against Derek’s hand, answering the unspoken question.

Derek placed a gentle kiss against Stiles’ lips, gentle and innocent. There wasn’t any intensity to it, but it held enough passion behind it to tell Stiles it wasn’t a lie. _This is real_ , Stiles thought. _This is us_.

“Derek,” Stiles breathed his name against his lips as he pulled back.

Derek gently ran his thumb over Stiles’ bottom lip, watching his facial features. “You know, we never finished our dinner bet,” he almost whispered against Stiles’ lips. “Are you busy tonight?”

Stiles gently shook his head, not trusting his voice. He couldn’t process what was happening to his body, but he leaned into Derek, welcoming the warmth of his body. He didn’t care that anyone could walk in and catch them. He closed his eyes, allowing Derek to kiss the tip of his nose.

“I’ll pick you up at 6?” Derek asked.

“6. Yeah, 6 sounds good. I like 6,” Stiles nodded, smiling up at Derek as he let him go. “So, I’ll, uh, I’ll see you at 6.” He rubbed the back of his head, smiling to himself.

Derek returned his smiled as he walked backwards, exiting the Sheriff’s office.

Stiles was too busy fantasizing how the night would end, that he completely ignored his father entering the office.

“I’m guessing everything went well,” John laughed when Stiles jumped in surprise.

“Uh, yeah,” Stiles replied as a blush crept up onto his cheeks.

“Just … be careful, alright kiddo?” John stated with a warning. “I don’t want to lose my best deputy.”

“Thanks, dad,” Stiles sarcastically replied. As much as he wanted to argue with his dad that it wouldn't be the worst case scenario, he didn’t want to think about losing Derek either. There was a time when Stiles thought a life without Derek's love meant the end of his world. He didn't know that a life without Derek in general was worse. He gently bit his bottom lip as he tried to plan out what he was going to wear.


	3. Chapter 3

“Lydia, this is the ninth shirt you’ve had me try on, and I was panicking enough before hand, now I am absolutely terrified,” Stiles stated as he yanked the offending shirt off of his body.

“You were the one that called and begged me for help,” Lydia explained. She crossed her legs as she leaned back onto Stiles’ bed, grabbing another shirt from the pile. She held out two of them, waiting for him to take one.

“I know, but I didn’t think you would make me freak out more,” Stiles argued as he took the shirt from Lydia’s right hand.

“Why are you freaking out?”

“Oh, I don’t know, because Derek Hale kissed me and then asked me out to dinner,” Stiles sarcastically snapped back at her, aggressively buttoning the shirt.

“Stiles,” Lydia said his name sternly. “Did any of those women at Laura’s birthday party catch Derek’s eye?”

“Well, no,” Stiles sheepishly answered.

“Well you did,” Lydia explained. “You’ve caught his eye several times. You’re Stiles Stilinski, not afraid of anything Derek Hale can throw at you. Now, start acting like it.”

“My God, you are terrifying,” Stiles stated as he tucked his shirt into his pants.

“I’m engaged to Jackson. I have to be,” Lydia reasoned as she offered Stiles a vest.

“So you’re admitting that you two are engaged,” Stiles stated as he slipped the vest on.

“It’s been a year,” Lydia gave Stiles a look that told him to shut up. “We decided that we shouldn’t have to announce our intentions. We both know, and that’s what matters.” She stood, pulling on the material of the vest before easily button the three buttons. She gently ran her hands over the material, flattening it against his body. “You clean up nice, Stilinski.”

“You can make anyone clean up nice,” Stiles replied.

“Now I remember why I’m friends with you,” Lydia smiled at Stiles’ flattery as she watched him turn to look at himself in the mirror.

“You don’t think the vest is too much?” Stiles asked, nervous he was overthinking everything.

“You don’t have a tie or jacket on,” Lydia explained. “This keeps it almost formally casual.”

“Okay,” Stiles nodded. “I can do that.”

“Just be yourself, minus being nervous,” Lydia stated in reassurance.

That was easy for Stiles to agree to, in theory. Placing it into practice proved to be more difficult than he thought.

Stiles was nervous all throughout dinner, waiting for Derek to make his move in explaining how they finally reached an understanding. It had been over a year since Derek came back to Beacon Hills; since they became friends once more. Derek never implied that he still felt about Stiles the same way, but they both managed to come back together. Together, they both managed to create a pleasant life centered around their friends, Laura, and each other. Stiles was frightened that Derek might backtrack now that he had made a move. He was overly aware how much this could potentially blow up in their faces. They had spent more than a year of carefully constructing what could potentially be their someday, and if this didn’t work then it was going to be another disaster.

Dinner passed between them in their usual banter, nothing particularly different or stressed. Stiles often looked down at his plate, waiting for Derek to ask him about Noah. But the question never came. Instead, they talked about the lives they knew the other to have. Derek talked about his job as a deputy, and Stiles explained his stress with Mrs. Robinson and her endless donations to the library. It was as if they were a couple, finally breaking from the stress of their lives in order to relax in the company of one another. It was strange how a year together, growing as individuals changed the way they saw each other. They no longer blamed the other for not being there, they didn’t mindlessly grab at each other for sexual release. Being in the other’s presence was enough to satisfy their desire for the other. But Stiles couldn’t help questioning it: does this mean they were together?

Derek’s kiss was surprising, but not unwelcomed. It was as gentle as its predecessors from years ago, but just as effective. The passion and want behind it made Stiles weak at the knees as he thought about the promise it held. Derek was always the one that swept Stiles off his feet, and this time was no different. He rambled onward as Derek smiled as he listened and offered his own sarcastic comments. Stiles wanted to be right in thinking Derek was as gone on him as he was on Derek.

It wasn’t until it reached the end of their dinner that they both felt the tension rise. They had talked about everything they possibly could have without bringing up the one thing they both knew they had to talk about. The night they parted was the night everything backfired on them, and neither wanted to admit fault. Neither wanted to admit the night still existed. In a strange way, that night was still raw in their memory.

Stiles ran his fingers over the stem of his wine glass as he listened to the chatter surrounding them. He could feel Derek’s eyes on him, knowing that he was listening to his heartbeat. He always knew the difference between Derek and his wolf, but he never saw it that way. Derek’s wolf had its own needs, and its own skillset that put humans to shame. But Derek and his wolf were one, and Stiles loved when Derek accepted that. Derek was freer when he let go of his reserves, allowing his wolf to act on instincts. Something told Stiles that Derek was listening to his wolf when he asked him out. Everything about the last year was work in progress as they rebuilt their relationship from the foundation up. They patched themselves back together by forgetting the past, but somehow ended up back where they started. It was exactly what Stiles was afraid of.

Déjà vu.

Stiles felt his chest tighten when he thought about Derek walking away from him like that night. Away from _them_. All night, he had met Derek flirt for flirt, offering a small laugh whenever he felt Derek’s eyes linger on him. He thought about their past, imagining how it could have ended differently for them, how this could have been the past few years. If only they had talked more. If only Stiles just told Derek his desire to stay with him. If only Derek had admitted he wanted Stiles for himself. The past hurt more than he thought it would, causing him to frown as he recalled the number of times he and Derek walked away from each other.

“Almost,” Stiles mumbled.

“What?” Derek questioned, looking at Stiles in concern.

Stiles looked up in surprise. He blushed when he realized he had spoken out loud. “I was just remembering something I read in one of my classes,” he weakly replied. He noticed how Derek waited, offering Stiles the opportunity to explain.

“‘The saddest word in the whole wide world is the word almost,’” Stiles looked up at Derek as he started to recite the passage he memorized; the passage that made him cry for an entire night as he thought about him and Derek. “‘He was almost in love. She was almost good for him. He almost stopped her. She almost waited. He almost lived. They almost made it,’” he cleared his throat as he finished, trying to ignore the pain in his chest. “I wrote a paper about how sometimes the saddest, most heartbreaking tragedies aren’t the ones about star-crossed lovers like Romeo and Juliet, but about two people who were _too_ perfect for each other,” he looked up at Derek as he spoke. “But were torn apart by the word almost.” He looked down at his wine glass, shying away from Derek’s sight.

“Sometimes people fall apart because of the unlikeliest of things,” Derek offered.

“Not everyone makes it,” Stiles replied, thinking about all the mistakes he made when it came to him and Derek. All the ways he sabotaged his own happiness.

“How did you gentlemen find everything?” The waitress’ voice broke Stiles from his painful memories.

Stiles quickly blinked away the tears he didn’t realize were forming before offering the woman a friendly smile. “Wonderful,” he said, looking over at Derek. He dropped his smile when he noticed Derek was looking at him with concern.

“Good, thank you,” Derek stated, keeping his eyes fixed on Stiles as he handed his credit card to her.

The waitress caught on that she may have interrupted something, gracefully bowing out of their space once she took Derek’s card from him.

“You okay?” Stiles asked, trying to keep the subject of conversation steered off of himself.

“Fine,” Derek curtly offered. “Are _you_?”

“Me? I’m okay,” Stiles tried to play it off as if he wasn’t shaken by his sudden realization that he had a lifetime to make up for. “Why?”

“Your scent changed,” Derek admitted.

“You’re still smelling me, huh?” Stiles asked, somewhat amazed that he forgot Derek always ‘smelled’ his scent whenever they were together.

“It’s difficult to shut one’s nose off,” Derek replied as he poured more wine in his glass. “Your scent was pleasant, content even. It suddenly pitched to … sadness. Like you’re worrying about something. Someone,” he frowned as he spoke, and it was obvious they had reached the topic of Noah.

 _I forgot how much I hate him_ , Stiles thought as he nearly snatched the wine bottle from Derek, angry that he was assuming he was saddened by Noah and not Derek himself. “If you have to know,” he started, focusing on the liquid pouring into his glass. “I was thinking about my experiences in undergrad.”

“Oh?” Derek questioned as he leaned back in his chair, fixing his eyes on Stiles’ glass as well.

“Yeah,” Stiles confirmed as he set the bottle down. “About mistakes I’ve made,” he picked up his wine glass, hoping he would shut up before he ruined everything. _This is not how everything should be going. We should still be laughing. We should be getting out of here. We should be resting in bed together after a round of orgasmic sex._

“I’m sure they weren’t all that bad. A few of them had to be keepers,” Derek’s voice was deeper, rougher as he spoke each word.

Stiles knew Derek had caught on to what he was probably thinking about. _Great, now we’re going to have that fight we never had but should have had._ “Some were,” he challenged, because two could play the wronged lover in this fight.

“And where are they now?” Derek questioned, his whole body giving off the illusion that he was at ease.

But Stiles knew Derek better than anyone. He knew that he was lying about his calm composure. That in reality, Derek was a predator, waiting for his prey to make a mistake. All because Derek’s pride was a factor in everything he argued with Stiles about. Stiles began to feel like his feathers were being ruffled; like Derek only intended to get him alone over dinner in order to pry him for information about his past romances.

“Moved on,” Stiles stated, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back in his chair.

“Hurts when people do that, huh? Funny how some people talk about moving on but they never really do,” Derek replied.

 _Oh, fuck you and your eyebrows_ , Stiles bristled, knowing Derek was aiming to hit something. _Are you seriously being childish and trying to start a fight because you think I was thinking about some other guy?!_ “Funny how some people assume the worst out of others. Tell me, Derek, are you still being a self-absorbed ass?”

Derek’s entire body suddenly morphed from its relaxed station into looking like a tightly wound string, ready to bust at any moment. To say Derek looked infuriated would be an understatement.

“You want to have this argument here?” Derek’s voice was almost inaudible, low and dangerous.

“You started it,” Stiles huffed like a child trying to avoid blame.

“I’ll finish it, if you want,” Derek breathed under his breath when the waitress popped back with his credit card. He took it from her, quickly jotting down a tip and his signature before standing.

Stiles was a little shocked when Derek just started to walk towards the exit of the restaurant. He quickly got up, offering the waitress a small smile before thanking her. He threw his napkin on the table, marching after Derek with the intent of giving him a piece of his mind.

“What the fuck is your _problem_?” Stiles found himself yelling the minute they were both on the sidewalk.

“It was a nice night, Stiles,” Derek started as he began to turn to walk to the car. “I’ll see you around.”

“Oh no, you don’t,” Stiles stated as he grabbed Derek’s arm, moving in front of him. “Don’t you dare try pulling that lone werewolf behavior shit on me,” he was fuming enough to ignore the fact that he was practically in Derek’s face. “You’re the one that got all defensive in there, not me.”

“What do you want me to say?” Derek finally asked.

“Oh, I don’t know. ‘Hey, Stiles. Sorry for leaving to go live in South America for almost two years without ever contacting you.’ Did your phone break?” Stiles’ entire body was shivering from the amount of adrenaline pumping through his veins. He was angry. He was downright pissed off.

“You were on the other side of the country. What happened to not expecting me to wait?” Derek finally bit out. He turned his head to the side, suddenly avoiding eye contact with Stiles.

“What?” Stiles asked in shock. “Woah, no. Nah-ah. You are not blaming that one on me!” He pointed at himself as he spoke. “ _You_ were the one that asked me to stay that night. _You_ said it changed nothing.”

“And every other night?” Derek finally looked back at Stiles.

“I—” Stiles’ voice suddenly broke, his mouth open as he tried to think of a reason. But the truth was, he couldn’t think of a reason why the first minute he got home, he drove straight to the loft, running up the steps, throwing back the door, and practically tackling Derek into the bed. Derek never told him to stop. He never told him they couldn’t, so Stiles in his naïvely oblivious nature continued to seek comfort in Derek’s arms without thinking about the repercussions, no matter how often Scott would chide him, even get into fights with him about it. “You never told me no.”

Stiles regretted the words the minute they left his mouth.

Derek’s features were cut off, complete guarded as the words hung in the air.

“That’s not what I meant,” Stiles groaned as his own stupidity.

“No, it makes it all more clear now,” Derek replied as he moved around Stiles to get to the car.

“Look at us, Derek! We can’t even spend a night out together without fighting! Would you stop and let me talk to you?” Stiles begged, noticing Derek was ignoring him as he followed him over to the car. He reached for his arm as Derek reached for the handle on the driver’s door. “Derek—” He didn’t get to finish when in a flash he found himself against the car. The door handle sharply dug into his lower back, causing him to let out a small whimper when Derek’s hands pushed him back into the cold metal. He looked up at Derek, unable to see his eyes as he let his head hang. Derek’s hands were like warm vice grips on his biceps, holding him in place. _A place between a car and a Derek,_ he mused as he waited for Derek to say something.

“I’ve let you talk me into a lot, Stiles,” Derek finally spoke, his words sounded extremely calculated, as if he had planned this speech several time. He kept his head down, focusing on the ground between their feet. “I agreed with you when you said about not waiting, because I thought that was what you wanted to hear. I knew you’d stay with me that night if I asked you to, so I did, because I wanted to at least know what it was like to … feel like I meant something to you. And then you came back. And _every time_ you came back, you came to me. You came to the loft, you sought me out, and you _wanted_ me. And then you brought … _him_ back without a word. And you thought it would just _blow over_?” His voice was rough as he struggled with the growl building up in his chest at the memory. “You told me you wouldn’t make me wait for you, but you did.”

“Derek, I—” Stiles cut himself off, not sure what he could possibly say that would make up for everything.

“You gave me hope, Stiles,” Derek sounded completely wrecked as he spoke. “You gave me hope and then ripped it all away. What did you think I was going to do? Walk away and let him have you without trying to twist the knife first? When it comes to you, I’m vindictive. I’m arrogantly proud.” He finally looked up at Stiles, a stern look covering his features. “I liked knowing that you came to me even though you had him. In the end you chose me. And in the end, I was the one that got to walk away instead.”

“Do you want to walk away from me now?” Stiles’ voice wobbled, unsteady from the fear of rejection.

“Am I supposed to roll over and thank my lucky stars that you suddenly want me again?” Derek questioned. “Like you trained me to?”

“Derek, I—” Stiles released a strangled sound as he tried to think about what to say next, because Derek was right. Stiles was always the one that walked away from Derek, and the night Derek left was the first time Stiles woke up in bed alone. And he finally understood why Derek did it. Derek wanted Stiles to feel what it felt like to wait for someone to come back, to be the one left behind and hoping he’d return.

Stiles reached his hands up to cup Derek’s jaw, pressing his fingertips into the warmth of Derek’s skin. He fought back the tears and the swooping feeling in his stomach as he gathered the courage to admit what he hid away for a long time. “I’ve always wanted you,” his voice was breathy, unsteady as he spoke each word.

“Not always,” Derek’s words were flat, void of all emotion as he pulled Stiles’ hands away from him.

“Was this … was this your plan the entire time?” Stiles quickly asked, words taut and bitter. “Get me to admit that I was wrong? That I was the one that fucked up? Because congratulations, Derek, I admit it!” Words were tumbling from his mouth as quickly as the hot tears that finally fell. “I fucked up and went to you when I shouldn’t have. I broke your heart by mistake. But I never meant to—not like you’re doing now! I made the mistake of going to you, thinking I didn’t love you anymore when I knew I did. I knew I never stopped loving you, but I lied to myself to make it easier. Because, newsflash Derek, you are not the easiest person to love! You make it so goddamn hard—it’s a fucking minefield—and you don’t forgive when I step on a mine. You were the one that told me it wasn’t your business if I date someone. You were the one that let me walk out of the loft and head back to school thinking you didn’t _want_ me.

“And I regret that I made love to you that night!” He was blinded by his guilt and anger; his hurt caused him to slam his fists against Derek’s chest. The force barely caused Derek to move back a step. “I’ve _always_ regretted it, because I’m still fucked up from it! I’m still waiting to wake up and find you next to me so I can tell you that I’m sorry for loving you while in a relationship with someone else. That I’m sorry I ever let another person touch me! I’m the one that had to explain to my then boyfriend why he had to leave, because I was an idiot and let myself think I could move on from Derek-fucking-Hale. But you just couldn’t let me hate you, could you? You came back and you’re still as perfect as you were. Was that the point, Derek? To show me that I fucked it up? That I fucked us up? Because I think about it every single day; how you’re the one that got away because I pushed you away! And I have been trying to live a life without you, but you came back! You came back and you were there for me,” his voice started to lose its anger as it grew unsteady, wavering under the loss of adrenaline. “You were there for my dad. For Scott and Kira. For Laura. You fit yourself back into my life and made me realize that I never stopped being in love with you. So, what? This wasn’t a date, but a final punishment? Because you were a lot of things, Derek, but you were never cruel.” He let a few sobs out, brushing the tears from his eyes as he released a sorrowful laugh as he commented, “I was always the cruel one.”

Stiles didn’t wait for Derek to respond, refusing to look at him as he quickly darted away from him.

“Stiles,” Derek quietly called his name, his hand fastening around Stiles’ wrist to prevent him from getting away.

Stiles closed his eyes, his wrist igniting under the heat of Derek’s hand. He tried to squirm out of his grasp, but knew that Derek wasn’t going to let go of him. The one time he wanted to run away and hide, Derek wasn’t going to let him. He let Derek pull him back towards the car, back towards his body.

“I would never do that to you,” Derek stated, his words soft but orotund.

Stiles refused to look up at him, wanting to melt into the pavement to avoid being seen by Derek. A shiver ran through his body when Derek released his wrist.

“I’ll give you a ride home, if you want.”

Stiles closed his eyes as he turned his body, heading over to the passenger’s side of the Camaro, his steps both sluggish and somber as if he was headed towards the gallows. He slipped into the car, ignoring the sinking feeling in his stomach; making him nauseous and wishing he didn’t drink as much as he did.

Stiles stared up at the moon through the window, the moonlight flickering through the trees as they sped down the road. Of all the ways he had envisioned how the night would end, this was not one of them. Part of him wished he continued walking, ignoring Derek’s offer in favor of his plan to aimlessly walk back to his apartment. He took a deep breath, uncertain if he should immediately bolt from the Camaro or wait to hear what Derek had to say when it rumbled to a stop.

Stiles gently drummed his fingertips against the door handle, briefly panicking before deciding that waiting was a stupid decision. He bared his soul to Derek in the parking lot, and to say that things escalated from normal to awful would be an understatement.

“About tonight,” Derek’s voice broke the silence just as Stiles’ grip tightened on the door handle.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles interrupted him.

“This wasn’t how I wanted it to end,” Derek added in an attempt to correct him, to stop him from apologizing.

“That seems to be the recurring theme of our lives,” Stiles offered a weak laugh in response, wanting to cry at how accurate that statement was.

“Stiles,” Derek started, his voice pained as he turned to look at him.

“I don’t know what you wanted out of this Derek,” Stiles started. “But I think I misread the motive for tonight,” he explained as he kept staring at the door handle, like it was a life saver in the ocean of choppy water his life began to resemble.

Derek released a heavy sigh, carding a hand through his hair. “I wanted this to be the beginning of something. Not the end,” he admitted.

“Maybe there is too much debris to build on top of,” Stiles explained. “Maybe we were doomed from the beginning. Maybe you were right when you said I didn’t know what I wanted.” His heart hurt as he recalled how Derek dismissed his feelings what felt like a lifetime ago. “ _Maybe_ it is easier to move on rather than rebuild.”

“Life’s not supposed to be easy, Stiles,” Derek argues as he turned his body to look out his own window.

“Do you forgive me?” Stiles asked, finally turning his head to look at Derek.

Derek turned his head to meet Stiles’ eyes for the first time since they shared the car ride in silence. The hope Stiles had at the beginning of the night was completely absent from his eyes, a solemn look of inevitability replacing it.

“For what?” Derek asked, swallowing down the lump rising in his throat.

“For not being able to let you go,” Stiles explained.

“I _let_ you hold onto me,” Derek weakly answered.

Stiles looked down at his hands, trying to fight back everything he thought he knew. Everything was supposed to be easier now. Everything was supposed to make sense now that he was an adult. Everything was supposed to fall into place without trying. Instead, everything hurt. Everything ended wrong.

“I think I should be alone,” Stiles forced himself to admit.

“Stiles—”

“Derek, how often have we pushed ourselves to give the other what they needed? How often did you feel like shit after giving me what you thought I needed while ignoring what you needed? When does it cross the line?” Stiles finally looked up at Derek. He closed his eyes before refocusing them on Derek’s. “What I said is true, Derek. We’ve wasted our lives trying to be what the other needs, regardless of how much we’ve hurt each other.”

“Then what do you want to do?” Derek’s voice was guarded, his eyes almost cut off of everything he was feeling back at the restaurant.

“I don’t know,” Stiles replied, uncertain what he even meant. All he knew was that it hurt to think of Derek and him separating on these terms. _Maybe we were never meant to be romantically involved_.

“I could put in for a transfer,” Derek suggested.

“Derek, I never said—”

“Then _what_ , Stiles? Just tell me what you want,” Derek’s voice was strained, as if it hurt him to be practically begging Stiles to just tell him what he wanted to do, not requiring a reason. “Please,” he sighed.

“I don’t know,” Stiles replied, biting his bottom lip. “Maybe … maybe we should think things over. By ourselves. And maybe go from there?”

Derek sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. “Tell me you aren’t running away from this,” he finally caved into agreeing.

“I’m done running away,” Stiles stated. “I just need … I don’t know,” he breathed in deeply as he spoke, his body shuddering from the uncertainty crashing through him. “I don’t want to keep ruining this—us. I … I want this to work, Derek, I do. But I’m still stuck in the past.”

“I know what you mean,” Derek replied, allowing his hands to rest on the steering wheel.

Stiles swallowed down the lump in his throat, finally pulling the handle to open his door. “I just … need time, Derek.”

“I’ve waited for you, Stiles,” Derek stated. “For years,” he added.

“Do you not want to wait anymore?” Stiles asked. “Because I’ll understand that. I’ve done worse to you.”

“Stiles,” Derek spoke his name softly. “I don’t blame you for that. Not if you mean what you said back in the parking lot.”

“I did,” Stiles answered, forcing himself to not look at Derek.

“Okay,” Derek replied.

“Okay,” Stiles solemnly echoed Derek’s response. He didn’t feel any better the minute he got out of the Camaro, dashing upstairs to his apartment where he broke down for the first time over Derek since the night he left Beacon Hills.

“What the hell am I doing?” Stiles asked himself as he settled into the lonely darkness of his apartment.

~0~0~0~0~0~

“You know, not everybody gets a happily ever after,” Mrs. Robinson stated as she opened up a few of the boxes she had brought into the library’s vault. She was cleaning out the attic in her summerhouse and decided that the Beacon Hills’ Archives could benefit from her discarded items.

“Did you?” Stiles asked as he looked up at her from the archival box. He was trying to keep busy ever since his botched date with Derek last week. He tried to think about what to say to him, if he could even admit to himself that he wanted nothing more than to be with Derek. He had avoided every question coming from Scott and Lydia about what happened, but he knew he had to face it sooner or later. He was paranoid that Derek might actually hate him after the other night, being reminded of the past and how Stiles left him for someone else.

“Once,” Mrs. Robinson admitted as she ran her fingertips over the cameo broach she held in her hand, sadly smiling as tears formed in her eyes. There was no telling the memories and secrets the cameo held from over the years, but the way she looked at it, Stiles could tell it was more than just jewelry.

“It wasn’t easy, and I … I gave it up,” Mrs. Robinson finally stated as she turned to face Stiles. She sighed, her fingertips still absentmindedly caressing the cameo. “I wish I could tell you it is easy, but sacrifice and pain, loss and heartbreak, it all hits us before we can even realize what happens to those around us,” she was watching Stiles as she spoke. “Sometimes when you fall in love, you start to forget what is happening around you. You can only focus on trying to keep from falling that you can’t see it’s too late.”

“What happened?” Stiles asked, looking down at his hands.

“He was the love of my life and I couldn’t keep fighting him,” Mrs. Robinson started as she played with the ring on the golden chain around her neck. “My parents didn’t approve of him. He wasn’t the same … breed as us,” she scrunched her nose at the memory. “My mother said he wasn’t good enough, and I’d end up heart broken.” She suddenly released a small laugh, causing Stiles to look up at her. “Oh, we fought almost every other day. Usually about the small things we did that the other both hated and loved. He used to call me the biggest pain in his ass, and I used to call him an arrogant bastard.”

Stiles smiled as he thought about all the times he fought with Derek. Most of the time those fights ended with the other laughing or rolling their eyes. Derek never tried to stop Stiles from being who he was though, no matter how much he claimed it annoyed him. He recalled the day the entire pack decided to go camping and Stiles managed to practically wade his entire body through poison ivy. He complained the entire night about how he started itching without any relief. Derek had told him to blame his own stupidity for not looking, but that hadn’t stopped him from threading their fingers together that night in their tent as Derek drew out Stiles’ itching pain.

He remembered all the times Derek and him ended up in bed halfway through a fight, biting each other’s lips as they called each other names before the only audible noise was the sound of them moaning in pleasure. Stiles wondered if the reason they couldn’t work was because they desired each other too much, never finishing a conversation without pulling at each other’s clothes.

“But in the end I let him go,” Mrs. Robinson’s voice ripped Stiles from his thoughts. “I ended up choosing a simple relationship rather than the one I always wanted, because I was afraid of us falling apart. I was afraid of the struggle it would take to make it work.”

“Do you … do you regret it?” Stiles asked, looking up at her.

Mrs. Robinson looked at Stiles, thinking back on her life. “At one point or another, I loved all my husbands—I did—but there was something different about how I felt about Caleb. It was more than just _me_ loving him. It was …” She struggled with picking the right words.

“You were _in_ love with him,” Stiles almost mumbled.

“Yes,” the word slipped from Mrs. Robinson’s lips. “I still _am_ in love with him. And I do regret not letting him know that. He loved me, more deeply than I’ve ever been loved. And I’ve never loved someone the way I loved him. And … I’m afraid I never will again.”

“Could you tell him now?” Stiles asked.

Mrs. Robinson smiled sadly to herself, shaking her head. “He has a family now. He’s happy without an old flame like me coming around.”

Stiles nodded, understanding her reasoning. He knew that he would do the same if Derek were happily settled with someone. “Sometimes I feel like I’ll never make it,” he sighed. “I feel like I’m never going to share a happy ending with someone.”

“You seemed rather friendly with Derek Hale,” Mrs. Robinson replied, a sly smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.

Stiles laughed nervously, ducking his head down to try and avoid looking at Mrs. Robinson. “There used to be something there,” he admitted.

“Used to?” Mrs. Robinson inquired as she placed the broach down on the table.

“We, uh, we’ve grown apart over the years. Lives going in different directions,” Stiles nervously flipped through the files in the archival box.

“I don’t think he came back to his home town for a demolished house and a charred book collection,” Mrs. Robinson replied.

Stiles looked up at Mrs. Robinson in surprise.

“I knew Talia Hale,” Mrs. Robinson started, smiling down at the broach. “She was a lovely woman. She had,” she paused as she tried to find the correct words, “Had a air about her. She made everyone around her speechless.” She smiled as if recalling a fond memory. “I met Derek only once before the fire. All the Hales were required to go to a fundraiser we were having for the Preserve. Cora fused over the hairstyle Talia forced her to have. Laura was ever the elegant eldest child. Peter actually seemed to be enjoying himself, while in the company of his family. And Derek,” she released an amused sigh, “Derek was the ever cocky teenager, determined to not have a good time as he sulked in the corner.”

Stiles smiled, picturing a teenage Derek sulking in the corner of some fancy ballroom as he wore his typical sourwolf expression.

“Naturally, he didn’t want to be there. But he forced a smile every time Talia would cast a watchful eye on him. He genuinely smiled when Cora punched one of the young men taunting her about her hair. I never saw a smile so full of joy. Happiness, even. You probably think I’m insane to tell you Derek Hale once smiled like that on a daily basis,” Mrs. Robinson commented as she pulled herself from the memory.

“I’ve seen that smile,” Stiles weakly replied.

“I know,” Mrs. Robinson stated. She smiled when Stiles looked at her in confusion before she gave him a stern look. “I think you’re the only one who can make Derek Hale happily smile these days. It’s easy to make someone who has lost almost everything offer a faint laugh or a glint of a smile. But it’s another thing to be able to make that person smile with their whole heart. And you do that for him.”

Stiles was about to argue against her when she held up her hand to stop him.

“I have married four times, Stiles. And if any one of my bastard husbands could make me smile and laugh the way I saw you make him that night of the dedication,” Mrs. Robinson released a sigh in a huff of air. “I’d still be married.”

Stiles smiled as he ducked his head, remembering the night of the dedication, the night Laura was born. He recalled the way Derek looked at him over the rim of his wine glass. The way he let him drive the Camaro without second thought. How he didn’t judge him for naming a stuffed animal after him. His reassuring hand resting on his knee, when he couldn’t stop worrying about his friends. The way Derek _let_ Stiles comfort him when the full force of Scott and Kira naming their baby after his sister finally hit him.

“Oh my God,” Stiles’ voice croaked as his breath came in rapid beats.

“Are you alright?” Mrs. Robinson asked in surprise at Stiles’ small outburst.

“He loves me,” Stiles stated. He looked up at Mrs. Robinson, noticing she only looked at him like it was obvious for such a long time. “I knew he loved me, but we said … we weren’t ready. But I—I don’t think that’s good enough.” His eyes were searching Mrs. Robinson’s, as if he was looking for an answer only she could give him. “If two people love each other, shouldn’t they—shouldn’t they be together no matter what? It shouldn’t matter, should it? I mean, I love him, and he loves me. Who cares if he can’t say it yet? Who cares if I’m a little immature and haven’t _experienced_ the world? I live in Beacon Hills, for crying out loud.”

“Stiles,” Mrs. Robinson said his name in an attempt to grab his attention.

“Derek’s always been there. Maybe not physically, but emotionally. He never cared how obnoxious I’ve been. He never tried to change me. I’ve been an idiot, but so has he. But I’ve been scared—God I’ve been so scared—that he’d leave me the minute I finally screwed up. I’ve been sabotaging myself. I’ve been shoving him away while lying to myself about trying to keep him close.”

“Stiles!” Mrs. Robinson broke his rambling, forcing him to look at her. “You don’t throw away a story just because it has a few plot holes,” she offered with a smile. “You work through it, until it’s the story you’re proud of telling.”

Stiles stared at her, eyes wide with uncertainty, as if this was a revelation he should have had years ago. And to be honest with himself, he should have and he hated himself that it took five years, a shared goddaughter, and Mrs. Robinson to make him admit it.

“I don’t think you should waste another minute here talking to an old gossip about what should be. You _should_ be heading down to the Sheriff’s office,” Mrs. Robinson kept her eyes fixed on Stiles as she spoke, waiting for him to catch on. “To see a certain handsome young man.”

Stiles slowly narrowed his eyes as he processed what she said. He perked his head up when he looked at the clock, noticing that Derek should still be on duty. _Of course he’s on duty. Mrs. Robinson just not so subtly told me to go confess my undying love, and demand to be with Derek for now and forever_.

Stiles nodded as he started for the exit before almost falling backwards as he tried to get back to Mrs. Robinson. “Thank you,” he quickly stated, placing a quick kiss on her cheek before running back out.

“I expect an invite to the engagement party,” Mrs. Robinson called after him.

In all honesty, at this point, Mrs. Robinson could give him away at the wedding if she really wanted, and Stiles wouldn’t object.

Stiles was panting hard as he burst into the police station, somewhat greeting the deputy at the front desk. He moved as quickly as he could, noticing that Derek’s desk was empty. He saw his dad across the bullpen when he shouted “Dad!” to get his attention.

“Stiles?” John questioned as he looked at his son rushing over to him.

“Derek, where’s Derek?” Stiles panted as he slid to a stop in front of him.

John gave Stiles a stern look, as if he had just broken the law in front of the entire station. “I don’t know what you did—”

“Dad!” Stiles waved his hands in front of him to stop him. “I _know_ I’ve messed up, okay? I know that! But I am here to fix that, once and for all. Now where the hell is Derek?!” He was out of breath waiting for his dad to respond.

“He filed for a transfer to New York, Stiles,” John explained.

“What? No!” Stiles protested as his father held up a hand to stop him.

“I told him the board has to review it since he has only been working a year. I delayed him for a week,” John explained.

“And you didn’t call to tell me?” Stiles asked in anger.

“You’re supposed to be at work, Stiles,” John retorted.

“Mrs. Robinson made me leave to confess my love for Derek,” Stiles stated. His eyes widened as he stared at his dad, realizing that he just confessed his feelings.

“Love, huh?” John fought back a smile.

“Yes, love, okay?” Stiles threw up his arms, not caring who heard him anymore.

“About damn time,” John sighed. “Derek should be getting off his shift and headed home,” he explained as he looked at the clock. “You should catch him at home.”

Stiles yelled a goodbye to his dad as he ran back out of the station and down to his Jeep. He knew he was speeding, but he felt like every second mattered. He was surprised when he reached Derek’s before Derek did. He debated with himself as he tried to decide between remaining in his car and getting out to sit on the porch. He went with the latter, slowly slinking out of his Jeep, placing his hands in his pockets. He felt like an idiot, realizing that in his rushing, he didn’t plan out a speech of any kind. He took the few steps onto the porch before slumping his body down onto the wood, placing his head in his hands as he observed the trees surrounding him. _I hope he doesn’t feel like killing me, because this would be the perfect place to do it_ , he mused.

Stiles recalled the first time Derek invited him and the pack over to his new home. It replaced the old ruins of the Hale house, put Stiles was certain it used the same floor plans as the original house. Mrs. Robinson was more than happy to pull all the strings necessary to get Derek his family’s property back when she learned that the county had seized it—she even raised money and oversaw the construction of the house. Stiles actually cried some when she presented Derek with the keys to the house, the look of confusion and then understanding that covered Derek’s face was genuine and grateful. _She’s like the fairy godmother he always deserved_ , he fondly thought.

He remembered moving out onto the porch and crying when he saw the grave markers for Laura, Erica, and Boyd. It wasn’t fair that they didn’t get to see the pack the way it was now. It wasn’t fair that they couldn’t see how happy they were now that the shit storm that was their life had passed. He tried to laugh and quickly brush away the tears when Derek walked out onto the porch to check on him. Derek moved to stand behind him, wrapping his arm around his neck. He pressed his cheek against the back of Stiles’ head, whispering a faint “I know” when Stiles tried to argue that he was fine. Stiles brought his hands up to hold onto Derek’s forearm, pressing his face into the welcoming warmth of his skin. It was moments like that that made Stiles question his relationship with Derek. He didn’t want to give these moments up. He would rather curl up and never let Derek go.

“Stiles?” Derek’s voice broke Stiles from his thoughts.

Stiles looked up at him, quickly standing as Derek approached him. He was surprised he didn’t even register the roar of the Camaro’s engine as Derek pulled up, completely lost in thinking about the past.

“What are you doing here?” Derek asked when Stiles didn’t answer him. “I thought—”

Stiles closed the distance between them, clinging onto Derek’s body in an attempt to keep no space between them. “I don’t want you to leave. Please, Derek. Please don’t leave me,” his voice was muffled as he pressed his face into Derek’s throat. “I know I don’t deserve to ask you that, but please don’t leave.”

“Stiles,” Derek settled his hands on Stiles’ arms, attempting to pull them apart.

“I’m not letting go of you,” Stiles argued as he struggled against Derek’s strength.

“Stiles, you need to let go of me so we can talk,” Derek reasoned.

“Fine,” Stiles huffed in defeat as he released Derek.

“Let’s finish this inside,” Derek weakly replied, walking by Stiles to head inside.

Stiles ducked his head as he followed Derek into the house. He watched Derek remove his jacket, hanging it up on the coat rack before he began untying his boots. He tried to keep his hands from wringing, focusing on the movements of Derek’s fingers. He frowned when Derek finally stood, walking into the living as he kept his back to Stiles.

“I put in a transfer,” Derek finally spoke, placing his hands on his hips.

“I know,” Stiles replied, slowly entering the living room.

“Is that why you’re here?” Derek asked.

“No, I mean, yes. I mean,” Stiles groaned, his heart hammering hard against his chest. “I went to the station to see you, then my dad told me about your transfer request.”

“Coming back to Beacon Hills … ”

“Wasn’t a mistake, Derek,” Stiles rushed to change Derek’s thought process. “God, please don’t think like that. I promise to make it up to you,” he moved closer to Derek as he spoke. “If you’ll let me.”

“I thought about what you said,” Derek started, turning his head to the side in order to see Stiles through his peripheral. “About maybe not being able to rebuild on top of too much debris.”

“I was an idiot,” Stiles almost begged for Derek to agree with him.

“We both are,” Derek stated as he crossed his arms over his chest, finally turning to face Stiles. “So,” he watched Stiles’ body, watching his body for any hesitation or tell. “What do you want, Stiles?”

“I don’t want to be a single unit anymore, Derek,” Stiles confessed as he tried not to squirm under Derek’s gaze. “I don’t think I ever wanted to be. I like being an us. I want us to keep being an us. But I want more.” He looked down at his hands before taking a step forward. “I know I can’t apologize for what I did, but I’m done trying to blame you for it. And just when you started to chase after me, I pushed you away but tried to keep you.”

Derek shifted on his feet before he stated, “You can’t apologize and expect that to make it all okay, Stiles.”

Stiles’ stomach flipped as he realized Derek was saying the exact same thing Stiles said to him when he confessed how he felt. “I know, I know,” he weakly replied. “But I do love you,” he admitted. “I always have Derek. That’s why I’m still here. That’s why I’ve always come back to Beacon Hills. Yes, the pack is here, so is my dad. But I always came back because I knew I had the chance of seeing you.”

Derek looked away from Stiles, tightening his arms across his chest as he absorbed Stiles’ confession.

“Derek, I …” Stiles closed his eyes as he tried to find the courage to not mess this up. _‘I still am in love with him. And I do regret not letting him know that,’_ he recalled Mrs. Robinson’s confession from earlier.

“I love that I am the last person you used to think about before you fell asleep,” Stiles finally stated. He let out a breath of relief when Derek turned his body towards him. “I love that you don’t have to speak your mind to let me know what you’re thinking. I love that you playfully threaten me whenever I give you a stupid nickname. I love that you remember just how much honey I like in my tea. Nobody has been able to do that since my mom and you just … you just know,” he let out a small sob at the thought of his mother. “I love that once, I was the first person you wanted to see when you woke up. And I love that you took a chance on me. You told me that I mattered because I took a chance on you, Derek. But you were the one that took a chance on me. You valued me when no one else did. I love that whenever I need you—even if I don’t know it—you’re there. You comforted me in my dreams before I even knew who you were. I’ve loved you before I even met you.

“And _this_ ,” Stiles gestured between them. “No matter how messed up and complicated it is, it’s still us. This is _our_ story, Derek,” he stated, wishing he could hold onto Derek’s hands as if they were a lifeline. “It’s flawed. Sometimes broken and screwed up. But it’s _ours_.” He didn’t try to stop the tears running down his cheeks. “It’s us,” he breathed, moving his hands to brush away his tears. “And that’s—that’s what I want. I want _you_ , Derek. Your insecurities, your perfections—your imperfections—your hopes, your dreams, your failures. All of you. And I don’t want to wait, because … I don’t need to hear you say it. I don’t. Because I know it—in my heart—that you love me. That you’ve always loved me. And I’m sorry it took me this long to figure that out. To know that you love me, even if you can’t say it, that’s … all I need to know. I was stupid to let you go. Because all the experiences in the world mean nothing to me if I don’t have you to share them with.”

The silence between them grew to a deafening level, causing Stiles’ ears to ring and burn red with the fear of rejection. His heart was pounding loud enough that he knew Derek could easily hear it, even without his werewolf hearing. He covered his face, trying to put a stop to the tears.

“I’ll leave,” Stiles finally mumbled into his hands. “I’m sorry,” he weakly offered as he whirled around on his heel, his legs forcing him to run out of the house. His feet barely touched the leaf covered ground when he felt a strong hand clasp his bicep. He didn’t bother pulling away, hoping this meant what he thought it did. He was ready for almost anything—acceptance or rejection—except for what Derek said next.

“I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quote Stiles is thinking about during the dinner is:
> 
> "The saddest word in the whole wide world is the word almost. He was almost in love. She was almost good for him. He almost stopped her. She almost waited. He almost lived. They almost made it." Nikita Gill, _Tiny Stories_


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> M/M sexual content in this chapter! Hasn't been proofread yet, but I figured you deserved an update. Enjoy!

“I love you,” Derek’s words were almost inaudible. He knew Stiles heard him when he turned around to gape at him in disbelief, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. He moved one of his hands to cup Stiles’ cheek as his thumb gently brushed away the few shed tears. “I love you,” he repeated, this time in a steady voice, keeping his eyes locked with Stiles. “And I’m not afraid any more,” he added a small smile, knowing he was wearing his heart on his sleeve. But this was Stiles, and that’s all that mattered. “I’m ready to say it, everyday, for the rest of my life.”

Stiles smiled, releasing a built up sob from his chest. His sobs slowly turned to joyful laughter. “Our life,” he corrected Derek as he looked up at him through his tears.

“Our life,” Derek confirmed, their bodies nearly slamming into one another as they both tried to hold on.

They stumbled backwards into the house, pulling at the other’s clothes in an attempt to rid them of every barrier between their bodies. They both knew they should take it slow, but they had wasted more than a year dancing around their want for each other—their love. Derek pushed his hands under Stiles’ shirt as Stiles’ hands fumbled with Derek’s buttons. Their kiss broke when Stiles continued to struggle with the buttons of Derek’s deputy uniform.

“I both hate and love this uniform,” Stiles grumbled as he abandoned the buttons and managed to successfully remove Derek’s belt.

“You just like that I have a utility belt,” Derek replied as he placed the belt, along with his holster on the table.

“Don’t make me picture you as Batman,” Stiles partially groaned as he pulled Derek’s shirt out of his pants. “Less talking, more naked,” he added when he finally caught a glimpse of Derek’s chest hair under the top buttons of his shirt.

Stiles didn’t bother hiding his blush when Derek easily pulled the buttons from their holes in record time. He ran his hands up under Derek’s shirt as he pushed the offending material off the broad span of his shoulders. A small shudder ran through his body when Derek tugged at his Henley until Stiles let him pull it off over his head. He moved forward, kissing Derek once more as he wrapped his arms around his neck. He moaned loudly into Derek’s mouth when Derek’s hands roamed down his body. He almost forgot what it felt like to have Derek’s bare skin against his, a wanton noise escaping his throat as the familiarity of it all came back to him.

Derek closed his fingers around the curve of Stiles’ ass, pulling a surprised moan from him as his fingers pressed up through his clothes to make him feel the movement against his rim. He partially smiled when he felt the twitch of Stiles’ cock hardening against his body, a pleased reaction to his touch.

“Derek,” Stiles breathed his name against his lips as he pulled back from their kiss. “Clothes,” he spoke through a jagged breath.

“I’ve got you,” Derek replied as his hand easily unfastened Stiles’ pants. He pushed Stiles back against the wall, using it as a line of support to prop Stiles against as his strength began to drain from his body.

Stiles drew in a long breath when Derek pushed his pants down his body, only stumbling slightly when Derek pulled them off his legs. He laughed when his pants took a hilariously high trajectory through the air, landing someplace mysterious. His hands moved to Derek’s shoulders, using him as support as pleasure shuddered through him with every touch of Derek’s hands roaming his body. His breath hitched in his throat when Derek’s fingertips grazed against the elastic of his briefs. He moaned Derek’s name when he pushed the offending material down his legs, freeing his cock. He blushed— _I’m actually fucking blushing_ —when he realized Derek was remaining on his knees, face to face with his cock.

Stiles buried one of his hands in Derek’s hair, pulling the handful of locks as Derek’s mouth enveloped him. His other hand tightly gripped Derek’s shoulder for support as he started to lose all strength in his knees. He nearly squawked in surprise when Derek lifted one of his legs, hooking it over his shoulders in order to support him. “Good, good,” Stiles mumbled in response.

Derek’s fingers fastened like pistons against Stiles’ hips, preventing him from completely toppling over. He hummed around his cock, causing a small groan to come from Stiles as he muttered words of encouragement.

“Oh God! Derek!” Stiles loudly keened when Derek straightened his back, the action pushing Stiles up the wall, literally lifting his toes just off the ground. “God bless werewolf strength,” he panted, his mouth briefly working once more as he moaned. He let out another moan when Derek’s laugh at his comment sent a shiver radiating straight through his cock and up his body. “I’m going … Derek, if you don’t stop … I’m going to come,” he finally called out, his hand trying to pull Derek off of him.

Derek braced his arm against the wall, pulling his mouth off of Stiles as he leaned back. He looked up at Stiles, his breath catching in his lungs when he took in the image before him.

Stiles was pressing the edge of his palm hard into his mouth, something Derek remembered he did in order to stop his orgasm from hitting him too soon. His skin was flushed pink, several rashes from Derek’s beard began to appear on his torso and neck as decorations. Small shivers pulsed through his body as he started to come down from edging so close to orgasm.

“You’re not going to last a minute in bed with what I’ve got planned if you don’t come now,” Derek’s voice was sultry and low. He didn’t allow Stiles enough time to respond before his mouth was back around his cock.

It only took a few seconds before Stiles’ orgasm tore through him, causing him to clamp his eyes shut as several tears broke. He buried his fingers in Derek’s hair, holding on tightly as all feeling was punched out of his legs. He whimpered when Derek released him from his mouth, easing him away from the wall in order to settle against his chest.

“I have you,” Derek stated in reassurance, easily guiding Stiles down to him.

Stiles knew right then that he was completely wrecked. It wasn’t the fact that he probably hadn’t experienced an orgasm like that since he first started experiencing the wonders of sex with Derek as a partner. It wasn’t the fact that he could only feel the tingling in his legs, a signal from his nerve endings that they were coming back online. It was the fact that he was being cradled against Derek’s chest as if he was the most valuable thing in existence. It was the fact that this wasn’t just sex to Derek—it never was.

“So,” Stiles finally spoke as his breathing returned to normal. He slightly rotated his hips, zeroing in on Derek’s erection pressing against his naked ass now that he was resting in Derek’s lap. “You had plans,” a mischievous smile plastered his lips as he spoke. He happily laughed when Derek effortlessly picked him up, carrying him the rest of the way to the bedroom.

It was like they never left one another. They fell into a perfect rhythm, their bodies instantly responding to the other’s touch.

Derek’s body covered Stiles’ completely, a blanket of security as their bodies moved together as one. Stiles reached back, his hands cupping the sides of Derek’s hips as he tried to push him deeper. Derek’s breath was hot against his skin as Derek’s hips nestled perfectly against his ass. Derek used one of his arms to prop them off the bed a little, his other arm secured around Stiles’ chest, tenderly mouthing the flesh behind Stiles’ ear.

“Derek,” Stiles moaned as he turned his head to meet Derek’s lips, moving his hips back into Derek’s rolling thrusts.

The movements were slow, perfectly executed. They altered between hands clasping flesh and fistfuls of sheets, sometimes writhing from the heights of pleasures previously unknown. Their moans were almost in perfect sync, matching the beating of their hearts. It was exactly like their first time, only now they both continually made proclamations of their love for the other.

~0~0~0~0~0~

Stiles opened his eyes, despite his own slight protest to the bright light irritating his sight. He rolled over onto his side, smiling when he saw Derek’s bare back facing him. He fondly bit his bottom lip as he recalled the events of the previous night. He loved the way Derek altered between pounding into him with wild abandonment and gingerly rolling his hips until Stiles was writhing in pleasure. His favorite part wasn’t even the sex—yes, the sex was mind blowing, as usual, and left Stiles nearly catatonic from the number of orgasms Derek pulled from him.

But Stiles’ favorite part of the night was their food break. He loved slipping into Derek’s clothes, wrapping himself up in the sweater he once clung to throughout college. He loved idly moving throughout the kitchen with Derek as if they had been doing this mundane, choreographed routine for years opposed to minutes. He laughed when Derek easily spun him out of his way in order to get to the utensils drawer. He had curled up against Derek as they lazily reclined on the couch, having a friendly debate about _Frozen_ , which Derek still had in his Blu-ray player from when he babysat Laura last. He had shameless initiated the make-out session that followed when Derek refused to agree with him that _Frozen_ was just another way to market the princess storyline.

(“Elsa’s a queen,” Derek had argued.

“Anna still ends up with the guy,” Stiles argued.

“Anna saved herself by proving true love can be familial love opposed to romantic,” Derek was in the middle of arguing when Stiles pressed their lips together.)

Stiles released a small noise of content, rolling around in the mess of sheets before wrapping his arm around Derek’s waist, pressing his face into the curve of his spine, just over his tattoo. He gently ran his fingers over Derek’s chest, his fingertips playing with the dusting of hair there, loving the feeling of the soft strands against his skin. Normally Stiles was not fond of the idea of hairy men, but Derek definitely was an exception— _a gorgeous specimen of manliness_. He placed a chaste kiss against Derek’s tattoo when he felt his body stir against him.

“Time to wake up,” Stiles murmured against his skin.

“More sleep,” Derek partially grumbled as he pressed his face into the pillow cradled in his arms.

“Don’t you have work?” Stiles questioned, trailing small kisses across Derek’s shoulder blades. He forgot how much Derek being a morning person was a false pretense that accompanied his normally broody nature.

“I called in a sick day,” Derek explained as he turned his head to the side, catching sight of Stiles in his peripheral. “Your father was glad I’m starting to use them. He was afraid people might get suspicious if I’m never sick.”

“So … I have you to myself?” Stiles questioned as he pulled back from him.

“All to yourself,” Derek replied, twisting in Stiles’ arms in order to face him. “Unless Cora comes barging into the house and tries to punch you.”

“She still hates me, doesn’t she?” Stiles groaned in question.

“She likes you. She just happens to love me,” Derek reasoned as he ran his fingertips through Stiles’ hair.

“Well, as my boyfriend, you have to protect me from your overprotective sister,” Stiles stated, hoping he wasn’t overstepping some unspoken boundary by calling them boyfriends.

“I already told her,” Derek replied. He partially smiled when he saw Stiles’ shocked expression. “I called her last night and told her to lay off. She threatened both of us, if it makes you feel better.”

“You told Cora that I’m your boyfriend?” Stiles asked, failing to hide his joy.

“Yes,” Derek replied.

“Good,” Stiles stated as he looked up at Derek. “Because I’m definitely telling everyone you’re my boyfriend.”

Stiles loosened his grip on Derek, crawling his way up Derek’s body to straddle Derek’s hips. He placed a kiss over Derek’s clavicle, smiling against his skin as Derek’s fingers caressed his hips. His lips moved their way to settle over his Adam’s apple, his teeth earning a content moan from Derek as they gently nipped at the skin there. He smiled as the short hair of Derek’s beard brushed along his cheek.

“I almost forgot how soft your beard is,” Stiles murmured as he kissed Derek. “A little prickly,” he continued, moving his body to rub Derek’s beard down his throat. “Utterly perfect against my skin.” He laughed when Derek released a growl, easily flipping them in order to pin Stiles’ beneath his body. He smiled as he looked up at Derek, gently rubbing his hands across the span of his shoulders.

“Does this mean another round?” Stiles smiled in question.

Derek released an affirming moan when Stiles rocked their hips together. Stiles smiled when he realized they weren’t getting out of bed anytime in the foreseeable future.

~0~0~0~0~0~

Stiles moaned loudly as he moved his body up and down, riding Derek until they both were writhing from the pleasure. He dug his fingernails into Derek’s chest, causing Derek to tighten his grip on Stiles’ hips in encouragement to keep going.

“I’m close,” Stiles panted against Derek’s lips.

“Me too,” Derek replied, gently biting down on Stiles’ bottom lip, sucking gently as Stiles moaned in response.

Derek’s name tumbled from Stiles’ lips, a broken moan as his orgasm shook through him, causing his downward thrusts to become sporadic and sharp. He loudly keened when a particularly thrust down met the roll of Derek’s hips, forcing him deeper inside of him, practically hammering against his prostate. He whimpered words of encouragement as Derek continued to thrust up into him until his body stilled and he came. He gently patted Derek’s chest as he eased his body down against Derek’s. He tried to match his breathing to Derek’s; he remembered how easy if was for Derek to settle into a relaxed state post-orgasm.

“Why did you pick me?” Derek’s voice suddenly broke through Stiles’ exhaustion, making him look up at Derek from his resting place on his chest.

“What do you mean?” Stiles asked, confused by Derek’s train of thought.

“You never said why you picked me,” Derek explained. “You could have stayed with … _him_ ,”—he emitted a guttural growl as he thought about Noah—“But you came back to stay in Beacon Hills.”

“I came back because I never wanted to leave you in the first place,” Stiles instantly replied. “Derek, I never wanted to leave you.” He watched Derek, noticing the way his words weren’t convincing him of his reason for coming home. “You’re my home, Derek, and you don’t get to pick who that is, that person just _is_. Because I’m more myself with you than I am alone.

“Because I love that you scowl at me when you want me to stop talking, but you also _let_ me keep talking, no matter how annoyed you are by it,” he placed a kiss on Derek’s chin as he spoke. He supported his upper body on his elbows, running his fingertips through Derek’s hair. “I love these,” he ran the tip of his index finger along the laughter lines decorating the area around Derek’s eyes. “How they prove you were made to smile. That I get to make you smile like you’re meant to.” His eyes scanned Derek’s face, smiling when his sight fell on Derek’s lips. “And I love your adorable bunny teeth.”

“I don’t have bunny teeth,” Derek grumbled in protest.

“You do too,” Stiles replied with a smile. “They are very obviously bunny teeth when you smile.”

“See if I smile now,” Derek replied, partially grumbling like a sulking child.

“I _love_ your bunny teeth!” Stiles protested as his fingers tried to move Derek’s lips into a smile. He pouted when Derek’s mouth remained in a stoic straight line. “I want all of my babies to have your bunny teeth.” He took it as a victory when Derek’s lips partially broke into a hint of a faint smile.

“Laura used to say I had bunny teeth,” Derek finally confessed.

“I know,” Stiles replied. “I argued with her for about twenty minutes of a haunting hour that they were adorable.” He leaned down, placing a kiss against Derek’s lips, pushing his fingers into his hair as he held onto him.

“I also love that you’re a little bit of a mess,” Stiles smiled as he spoke, pulling back from their kiss. “That you’re my mess. How you have the whole, beautiful disaster thing down to an art,” he took his time soaking in Derek’s expression, gently tracing his fingertips along his jaw. “And how you didn’t see me as broken. I think it’s because you thought you were written off as ruined a long time ago—just like me—but you kept fighting.” He leaned forward, placing another chaste kiss against Derek’s lips. “And I love you, despite how much you want to be that ruined image.”

Derek ran his hands along Stiles’ sides, his hands perfectly forming to every contour of his muscles. His hands rested against the small of Stiles’ back, holding his body tightly against Derek’s. “I love you,” Derek stated as he kissed the tip of Stiles’ nose.

Stiles smiled, placing a kiss against Derek’s lips before he buried his face in the crook of Derek’s neck. “I love you, too,” his words were muffled against Derek’s skin, but he knew Derek heard him when he pressed his nose against the hollow of Stiles’ throat. He released a sigh of content when Derek gently nipped at his neck, leaving an obvious lovers mark for both human and werewolves alike to understand that Stiles was taken.

Stiles started to drift off when he suddenly felt Derek’s body stiffen, entirely rigid. “Derek?” He questioned as he lifted his head.

“Someone’s here,” Derek informed him as he pulled back the sheets, standing to leave Stiles in bed.

“Well, my dad pretty much knows I’m here, so he won’t shoot you for defiling his son,” Stiles jokingly replied as he watched Derek get dressed. He smiled to himself as he ogled Derek’s naked ass before he slipped his jeans on. “It should be illegal for you to wear clothes,” he commented, noticing a similar smile crossing Derek’s lips as he turned to look at Stiles.

“Then everyone would see me naked,” Derek explained as he leaned over the bed, pressing a quick kiss against Stiles’ lips.

Stiles groaned, mumbling something about how stupid logic was.

“And you should get dressed,” Derek stated as he stood up, grabbing his shirt from one of their many piles of discarded clothes. “Because Scott and Kira are here,” he quickly added as he pulled on his shirt, walking towards the bedroom door.

Stiles squawked as he fell out of bed. “Scott will be able to tell we just had sex,” he harshly whispered after Derek.

“And since when did you care about that?” Derek’s voice was already a hallway’s distance away as he descended the stairs.

Stiles was proud of himself when he realized he dressed himself in record timing, taking a deep breath before descending the steps. He smiled when he saw Kira and Scott standing at the bottom of the stairs.

“Looks like someone had an eventful night,” Scott was grinning like an idiot as he spoke.

“Stop being a creep,” Stiles stated, delivering a friendly punch to Scott’s shoulder when he reached the last step.

“I’m a werewolf, I’m allowed to be,” Scott replied.

“What are you both doing here, anyways?” Stiles asked, trying to change the subject and pretend that they all weren’t aware of the fact that Derek and him were naked in bed moments ago.

“Laura’s walking on her own!” Kira announced in excitement.

“What?” Stiles asked excitedly, only now noticing that Derek and Laura were nowhere to be seen. He turned to look down the hallway by the bannister, catching sight of Derek’s back as he walked backwards towards them. He peered around Derek’s side, noticing Laura standing—a little unsure looking—at the end of the hallway as she eyed the four adults.

“Come on, munchkin,” Scott called to her.

Laura looked down at her feet before looking up at her father. She looked with uncertain eyes at her mother, eyes moving to look at Derek’s outstretched hands. Her eyes landed on Stiles, watching him carefully.

Stiles smiled at her, kneeling down beside Derek’s legs. He outstretched his arms, opening and closing his hands in a beckoning gesture.

Laura immediately reacted, taking a small step, looking up in surprise when the four adults all made a sound of approval, causing her to speed her movements the closer she got to them. She halted when she got a few steps from Stiles and Derek, looking back and forth between the two of them.

Stiles looked over at Derek as he knelt.

“She’s confused,” Derek explained the lingering question no one was asking.

“She doesn’t want to pick between us?” Stiles asked as he looked at Scott, who merely offered him a faint shrug.

“She can’t tell the difference between our scents,” Derek replied.

“Oh God,” Stiles nearly exclaimed. “She can tell that we—oh God, tell me she can’t.”

Laura giggled at Stiles’ facial expression, her legs wobbling a little underneath her.

“She doesn’t know _that_ ,” Derek rolled his eyes. Stiles saw the obvious sign of relief wash over Scott at Derek’s statement. “We just smell more alike now than last time she saw us. She doesn’t see us as separate.”

Stiles looked from Derek to Laura. “Like we’re a unit?” He asked, looking back at Derek.

“Basically,” Derek replied, avoiding eye contact with Stiles.

Stiles smiled, encircling his arm around Derek’s waist as he pulled them closely together. He looked up at Derek, taking in his surprised expression. He placed a quick, reassuring kiss on Derek’s cheek, smiling back at him. They were both surprised when they felt a small force bumping into their abdomens. They looked down to see Laura leaning into them, her hands grabbing at the material of their shirts as she giggled.

“You did great, Laura,” Stiles stated as he picked Laura up in his arms, turning his body into Derek’s.

“That was amazing,” Derek added. He smiled when Laura leaned into his chest, giggling to herself.

“So, are you two officially together again?” Scott asked. He looked at Kira when she hit his shoulder. “What? I want to know if our daughter is responsible for succeeding where we all failed in getting them together.”

Stiles laughed when Derek rolled his eyes. He stood up, letting Derek take Laura from his arms. “I think it’s safe to say yes,” he commented, looking down at Derek as he rubbed the back of his neck.

Derek looked up at Stiles, a small smile spreading across his lips. “I’d say so.”

It seemed like an eternity before Derek and Stiles managed to usher Scott and Kira out of the house, both determined to savor their day off together. They spent most of the time relaxing in bed, talking about everything the other had missed. There were still questions left unanswered, lingering between them as they tried to plan out what came next.

It was in the late hours of the night, with Derek’s head resting against his chest when Stiles realized that he didn’t care about the answers to those forgotten questions. He didn’t care because no matter the answer, they were still here—together. He had his arms around Derek, and Derek wasn’t planning on leaving. No answer in the world was going to change that for them. He smiled as he pressed a kiss into the softness of Derek’s hair, slowly mouthing a silent ‘I love you’ into the quiet of the night.

“I love you, Stiles,” Derek’s sleepy voice broke the silence as he gently nuzzled Stiles’ chest, his arm around his waist pulling them closer together.

And _that_ was the only thing they had left unsaid all those years ago that mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Epilogue will be the next and last chapter!
> 
> Also!  
> The part where Stiles describes Derek's beard as "soft, a little prickly and utterly perfect" sounds insanely familiar to me. I'm positive a fan used it to describe Tyler Hoechlin's beard. I cannot remember who! (If you think you know or you definitely know, please inform me!)


	5. Epilogue: One Year Later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! The final entry. It's A LOT longer than I thought it would be. Mainly I just kept writing and adding scenes. I'll probably go through and edit it better later (aka, any typos I missed). But regardless, I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> I really loved writing this series and am very proud of this story and how well it has been received. Thank you all for the lovely comments and the support throughout.
> 
> And with no further delays …

Stiles wasn’t sure how this happened.

Well, Stiles knew it was all Lydia’s fault. But it was her wedding and he couldn’t be a bitter man of honor. That is, until he was sitting in a chair waiting for someone to catch the garter belt. To then slip onto his leg and up his thigh. Because he happened to catch the bouquet. Which Lydia happened to throw right square in Stiles' face.

“This is a stupid, archaic and sexist tradition,” Stiles argued as Lydia forced him to remain in the chair for all to see.

“Would you stop complaining?” Lydia sighed, resting her hands on Stiles’ shoulders. “I let Jackson slide the garter off my leg in front of everyone.”

“Okay, first of all, it was _your_ decision to have that garter. Remember me helping you pick it out?” Stiles countered, his eyes darting across the group of bustling people. “And secondly, Jackson is your _husband_ , so you’re comfortable with that. Do you think I’m going to be comfortable with one of your drunk, perverted uncles possibly sliding a garter up my leg? Or worse, one of Jackson's pack members?”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure Derek will catch it,” Lydia smiled.

“I don’t see him, do you?” Stiles bit back.

Normally, Stiles would be calm and confident that Derek would catch the garter and save him from the humiliation. But Stiles hadn't seen Derek all day, which made him more bitter about the other day entirely.

They had been living together for almost a year, even rearranged furniture to better suit their new living situation. Together, they managed to decorate one of the rooms for Laura, arguing over the colors before they let her choose, (Stiles won with light blue). But for the past few weeks, Derek had been distant, pulling away from Stiles as he started to work more shifts.

And it all started when Derek was shot.

Stiles had overheard the entire situation on the police scanner Derek had reluctantly let him have in the house. _All units, be advised, officer down at First National Bank. Officer has been shot. Ambulance is on route. Please standby._

Stiles had dropped his mug as he dashed out of the house, tripping over his feet as he stumbled to the Camaro—he blamed Derek for taking his Jeep apart to fix. He had sped all the way to the hospital. He even called the dispatch and fought with Rosa, demanding she tell him the badge number of the downed officer when both his dad’s and Derek’s phones went straight to voicemail.

“Stiles, I can’t tell you—”

“Damn it, Rosa, is it my dad or Derek? Just tell me that!” Stiles yelled, slightly swerving when he realized he was veering to the side.

“Stiles, the officer was responding well when the ambulance reached them,” Rosa calmly stated.

“You’re not telling me because it is one of them, isn’t it?” Stiles weakly replied, his anger turning into fear.

“Stiles …” Rosa’s voice was tired, but also sympathetic.

“Forget it,” Stiles angrily replied, hanging up.

Stiles bolted from the car, barely remembering to take the keys out of the ignition. He jumped the steps two at a time, avoiding bumping into other people as he ran for the ER.

“Excuse me,” Stiles was panting heavy as he reached the nurse’s station. “I’m looking for the officer who came in with a gunshot wound,” he explained to the woman gaping at him. It was then that he realized the officer could have multiple gunshot wounds. That thought didn’t help the sinking feeling in his stomach.

“What is your name?” The nurse asked, looking Stiles up and down.

“I just need to know what the officer’s name is,” Stiles explained.

“I’m sorry, sir, but—”

“Stiles?”

Stiles quickly turned around to see his father, a worried expression on his face.

“Dad!” Stiles exclaimed as he ran over to John, tightly hugging him in haste. “I heard on the scanner that someone was shot. I called Rosa, but she wouldn’t tell me the badge number. I was so worried it was you, but you’re okay, right?” He leaned back to examine his dad, his stomach dropping when he saw the blood staining his shirt. “Dad …”

“It’s not my blood,” John solemnly replied.

“Dad … where’s Derek?” Stiles looked up at his father, hoping his mind was creating a false sense of worry.

“He’s recovering,” John immediately stated, an attempt to reassure Stiles.

“What happened?” Stiles asked, knowing his face was paler with every second.

“There were a few trespassers casing the bank’s new set up. Derek was on shift with me when we responded to the dispatch,” John started to explain, placing a comforting hand on Stiles’ shoulder. “Derek sensed them out, knew where they were. They were too riled up to talk down,” his dad sighed, regretful of the events that led them here. “One of them panicked, opened fire. Derek reacted faster than me, and …” He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “He pushed me out of the way.”

“Is he conscious?” Stiles asked, wanting to see Derek.

“Melissa is taking out the bullets now,” John replied. “Come on, kiddo, I’ll take you to him.”

Stiles nodded, not trusting his voice. _Bullets. Derek saved my dad’s life_. His feet halted when he caught a glimpse of Derek through the curtain and the observation window.

Derek’s shirt was off, his body leaning forward as he tried to fight Melissa in order to stand. He was arguing with her, wounds still gaping just under his clavicle and where his arm and shoulder met.

“Derek, you need to sit down and let me—”

“I need to call Stiles,” Derek argued. “He has that stupid police scanner—” he stopped speaking when he saw the Sheriff escorting Stiles into the room.

“Stiles,” Melissa smiled when she saw Derek relax some, not taking his eyes off of Stiles. “Now that you don’t have to call him, sit down and let me get the bullets out,” she stated as she turned to face him with medical forceps in hand.

Stiles was staring at Derek, trying to ignore the fact that Melissa was removing bullets from his boyfriend’s chest.

“Why aren’t you healing?” Stiles finally found his voice when he noticed Melissa beginning to stitch up the wounds.

Derek looked from Stiles to John, waiting for him to explain.

“I gave him a shot of diluted wolfsbane,” John finally admitted.

“You … you poisoned my boyfriend while he was bleeding from gunshot wounds?!” Stiles’ voice rose to higher decibels with every word.

“Deaton made it,” Derek’s voice made Stiles look from his dad to him. “He created it in case situations like this happened. I’m healing, Stiles, but not as fast as I normally would.”

“To not raise any questions,” Stiles finished Derek’s explanation.

“The bleeding has already stopped. I’d say you will heal in a day or two,” Melissa added. She waited until she was finished to turn and give John a look that told him they needed to leave Stiles and Derek alone. She gave Stiles a reassuring hand on his shoulder before she exited with John.

Stiles didn’t wait for the door to shut before he was clinging to Derek. He wrapped his arms around his neck, pressing his face into the hollow of his shoulder. He didn’t realize he was shaking until Derek wrapped his arms around his waist, holding him still against his body.

“I couldn’t think when I heard that dispatch,” Stiles' admittance was muffled by Derek’s shoulder. “I'm so used to worrying about my dad, but all I could really think about was you. Which I told myself was dumb because you’re a werewolf,” he weakly released a sad chuckle. “And then I thought about how much you like to be a self-sacrificing idiot, and I got scared. But then I saw my dad in the waiting room, and when I saw the blood … I went from relieved to devastated.”

“I didn’t have enough time to move us both out of the way,” Derek explained.

Stiles shook his head. “I don’t care about that. I mean, I do, but I don't. You saved my dad’s life, but … I couldn’t live with it being you either, you get that, right?” He lifted his head from Derek’s shoulder, moving his hands to cup Derek’s face. “Don’t scare me like that again.”

“Stiles, I heal, your dad—” Derek began to argue.

“You wouldn’t heal from a bullet to the head,” Stiles argued back.

“You don’t know that,” Derek replied.

“Stop being a suicidal idiot for two seconds and think about what you just said,” Stiles stated, dropping his hands from Derek’s face.

“I’m not going to apologize for what I did,” Derek stated as he held Stiles’ gaze.

Stiles surprised himself when he actually smacked Derek. He wasn’t sure what motivated him, but he couldn’t stop the motion once it started. He was mad—furious—with Derek for not admitting that what he did was stupid even if it ended all right this time. He was mad at how worried he was; he was mad when he realized the hotness in his face was from tears he didn’t know he was shedding. He pushed his hands against Derek’s chest, shoving his body out of Derek’s reach. He stormed off, leaving Derek in the room by himself.

Stiles knew it was his dad that dropped Derek off that night, but he pretended to be asleep. He kept his eyes shut, ignoring Derek when he came into the bedroom. Stiles’ heart sounded like a worried rabbit’s, thumping louder and faster with every second, and Derek ignored the fact that he could tell Stiles was still awake.

They had remained in a silent funk ever since then, resulting in small fights happening in the kitchen over breakfast, mutely ignoring one another, and Stiles’ least favorite, Derek taking night shifts to prevent them from sharing a bed. Everything continued to add to their fight with every interaction, and the final straw was Derek being dismissive about Lydia and Jackson’s wedding.

Derek had a nonchalant air about him when he stated that he couldn’t make the rehearsal dinner. He was leaning against the tool box, wiping oil and grease from his hands with an already dirtied rag. His gaze avoided Stiles completely.

And it resulted with Stiles throwing a part of his dismantled Jeep—a rather heavy part, Stiles noted—at Derek. He was relieved when the part completely missed Derek, thanks to Stiles inability to judge just how heavy the part was and Derek’s reflexes. He stormed off into the house to get ready and called Scott, demanding he come get him for the rehearsal that night, refusing to use the Camaro out of childish spite. He groaned when Laura began to cry in the car when he explained, “Uncle Derek can’t make it.”

All things considered, Stiles thought he managed the night rather well. He balanced a tired Laura—who continually clung to him as she tried to be comforted by the faint smell of _Derek_ that no doubt still lingered on him—in one arm as he made a man of honor toast. He even made Jackson slightly laugh and teary eyed by the end, which Stiles definitely took as a win. He was, however, slightly annoyed when Lydia told him that Derek called her and Jackson to inform them that he was too busy to make it, unexpected plans getting in the way, which resulted in her lecturing Stiles about not having a tantrum and throwing heavy car parts at people—“even if they are werewolves.”

Stiles made a point to slam the door when he got home, prepared to have a final fight with Derek. One that Stiles completely planned on ending in passionate sex in the kitchen, because they hadn’t done it in there since they broke the table, and he decided that they needed to correct that error. _Break another table_ , he thought as he marched through the house to find Derek. _Yeah, breaking a table while having sex fixes it._  He was completely put out when he found a note on the kitchen table—the one he had totally intended on breaking—from Derek, telling him he was called in to work and wouldn’t be back in time for when Stiles had to leave for the wedding.

Stiles didn’t sulk, (he totally sulked), for the remainder of the night before curling up in bed. He even stole Derek’s pillow, not caring if Derek was annoyed with him cuddling it. He was more than disappointed when he awoke to his alarm the next morning, stretching out across an empty bed, completely vacant of Derek’s normally comforting warmth—no matter how fleeting it had recently been. He groaned when Bruce Wayne stretched his legs out and kicked Stiles, a physical reminder that he had shared a bed with his dog more than he did with his boyfriend lately.

Stiles had focused on Lydia and Jackson for the entire wedding, pretending to be completely preoccupied by the fact that he was walking down the aisle, arm linked with Danny’s as best man and man of honor. He hadn’t seen Derek, but there were a great deal of people—nearly all of Beacon Hills and a good chunk of Jackson’s pack from London—and Stiles hoped he’d see Derek at the reception. His dreams were almost completely crushed when several of Jackson’s pack members hit on him at the bar, none of them met with Derek’s normal serial killer glare or territorial growl of ‘mine’ when Stiles was the subject of unwanted flirtation.

“Think of it this way, there are a bunch of hot Brits eyeing that garter belt,” Lydia whispered to Stiles, breaking him out of his thoughts. “You’ve even made an impression on the Alpha.”

“Um, I have my own sexy, but grumpy werewolf of my own, remember?” Stiles replied as he looked over at the Alpha. He refused to lie to himself, the Alpha— _Connor? Conrad? Creep?_ —was attractive and had been knowingly eyeing him throughout the entire ceremony and reception. He knew when a werewolf was staring at his ass, and the Alpha was only one of several from Jackson’s pack doing so. He enjoyed the fact that they all frowned once discovering another werewolf’s scent all over him, boosting his desire to rub it in Derek’s face that he was a hot commodity.

But the Alpha had rubbed Stiles the wrong way when he met him. He was a few inches taller than Stiles, but they were probably the same build— _Derek’s definitely bigger than him_. Stiles hated the Alpha werewolf bullshit that came with the ego. Scott was level headed and sometimes overprotective, but he never acted like he was better than others just because he was an Alpha. Even when Derek was an Alpha, he never made Stiles feel like prey, as if he didn't have a say in his own actions should Alpha Derek wish to defile him in the abandoned subway. _Need to stop fantasizing about Derek taking me and doing whatever he wants to my body in somewhat public places._

Stiles, however, _didn’t_ like the way the Alpha gave him a twice over, taking in the sight of Stiles’ body like he found uncharted waters and he was eager to make a map. He may not be a werewolf, but Stiles knew basic werewolf etiquette meant that you didn’t ogle another werewolf’s partner— _mate_ , Stiles defiantly thought. He and Derek may have been having problems, but Derek confessed one night that he knew they were mates, and that he and his wolf couldn’t be happier, which Stiles wanted to write in the sky.

“You’re Jackson’s mate, right?” Stiles remembered asking Lydia and Kira in the bridal shop as Lydia twirled around on the stand to view her final alterations.

Lydia and Kira exchanged looks before they both eyed Stiles carefully. He remembered being abnormally quiet that day—Derek’s confession of them being mates still hanging over him.

“He said he wasn’t sure at first,” Lydia admitted. “That’s why I told him I wouldn’t marry him—not if there was someone running around out there who was his mate.”

“Scott was worried about that with us,” Kira mentioned. “My mom had nearly convinced him that a wolf and fox _couldn’t_ be mates.”

“It didn’t take Jackson long to realize that we were though, thanks to Deaton,” Lydia explained as she played with her hair, holding it up to see how it would look with the cut of the dress.

“Do you think you have more than one mate, and you can be with any one of them? Or is it just one?” Stiles was staring off to the side, watching another group of girls crying over how beautiful the bride-to-be looked.

“Okay, what is wrong?” Lydia questioned, eyeing Stiles suspiciously.

“Derek said he knows we’re mates,” Stiles answered.

“Stiles, that’s great,” Kira happily replied.

“You don’t seem happy,” Lydia replied as she picked up the skirt of her dress, stepping down to join Stiles and Kira on the couch. She waved her hand to dismiss the lady when she came to check on them.

“I mean, it’s great and all, and I’m happy for him being a werewolf and having that, but …”

“It’s not the same for a human,” Lydia explained.

“Yeah,” Stiles sighed. “I’m not saying he _has_ to marry me. But if we are mates, it just makes me question what is stopping us from going all the way?”

“Why don’t you propose?” Kira asked.

“I feel like I’d have a heart attack, taking in Derek’s vacant expression as he processes what I was asking him,” Stiles gave a weak chuckle, picturing Derek staring at him, eyebrows comically raised high.

“You do know being someone’s mate means marking, right?” Lydia added.

“I know,” Stiles nodded. “I helped Deaton with Scott and Kira’s, so Scott wouldn’t accidentally transfer the bite to her.” He remembered how nervous Scott was; terrified that he was going to kill Kira through transferring the bite. Deaton assured Scott that kitsunes and werewolves have been successfully bond marking each other for centuries. Stiles was nervous, but he plastered a smile on that told Scott he was confident it would work.

“Which I’m thankful for,” Kira replied as she wrapped her arm around one of Stiles’.

“But Derek’s a Beta, so I wouldn’t have to worry about him turning me,” Stiles added.

“ _But_ Derek is a born wolf, Stiles,” Lydia explained. She sighed, shaking her head when Stiles gave her a quizzical look. “It’s different for born wolves. Most werewolves are bitten, and it is custom to give your mate the bond bite where your bite is. Kind of like a matching pair.”

“And Derek can’t do that with me,” Stiles explained out loud.

“I think the bond bite for born wolves is here,” Kira stated as she pointed at the side of Stiles’ neck. “And by the look of that hickey, I’d say Derek approves of that spot.” She smiled when Stiles pulled at the collar of his sweater—Derek’s sweater—to cover it.

Stiles _knew_ that the spot for a born wolf’s bond mark was the neck. It was normal for born wolves to mate with other born wolves, eliminating the caution for not exposing an obvious bite mark. He knew explaining away the bite marks on his body right now was a simple ‘my boyfriend has a biting kink.’ But to explain away an actual scarred bite mark on his neck, one verging on animalistic would be hard to do. Derek would essentially be labeling Stiles’ very presence as the mate of a werewolf, not only to other werewolves, but also to other creatures—supernatural and hunter alike.

“It’s not only that, Stiles. Derek’s lost nearly his entire family. And accepting you as a mate by giving you a bond mark is a huge deal,” Lydia placed a gentle hand on his knee. “Being someone’s mate is for life. That’s why Jackson and I, after establishing that we are mates, are waiting until our one year anniversary to perform the bond mark.”

“It took us so long to get where we are,” Stiles explained. “I just don’t want him to be scared that I’m not in this for the long run.”

Lydia rolled her eyes as she flicked Stiles’ nose. “He told you that you were his _mate_ , idiot. That means more to Derek—a born werewolf—than marriage.”

Stiles rubbed the tip of his nose as he gave Lydia a small glare.

“Now, stop worrying and help me pick out a garter belt,” Lydia announced as she and Kira pulled Stiles up off of the couch, dragging him off to the lingerie section of the shop.

“Lyds,” Stiles grabbed her hand to keep her from leaving him just yet. “Tell Jackson to aim _not_ at British Alpha.” He knew the Alpha heard him when he smiled, suddenly standing to attention and joining the slightly intoxicated group of men waiting for Jackson to toss the garter.

“Jackson knows,” Lydia replied, tapping his shoulder. “Plus, Scott is on it,” she added, nodding her head towards the crowd.

Stiles wanted to run over and kiss Scott when he saw him standing shoulder to shoulder with the British Alpha. Scott gave Stiles the ‘I got this, Bro’ nod, prepared to tussle with everyone if necessary. Isaac gave Stiles a playful nod, moving his way over to the other side of the group to make a guarantee that either he or Scott would get the garter. Stiles was happy his friends had his back, and he could live with Scott—possibly Isaac—sliding a garter belt up his thigh.

“Alright, everyone ready to try and cozy up with Stilinski?” Jackson snickered when Stiles glared at him.

Lydia shot Jackson a look that told him their honeymoon was going to be a lonely one if he started picking on Stiles. Jackson gave Stiles a look that offered reassurance that he was going to try and aim at Scott. Stiles wasn’t sure if he trusted Jackson to keep that promise, but he did trust Lydia to kick Jackson’s ass if he didn’t.

Everything was happening in slow motion, the garter taking an insane trajectory as Jackson whipped it through the air. _Scott, don’t jump, don’t jump! That’s what messes people up!_ Stiles began to panic when he noticed Scott was moving to jump into the air. When he noticed Isaac was doing the same, he clamped his eyes shut, not wanting to bear witness to the catastrophe.

Stiles heard the sound of people landing on one another, the noise of gasps and shocks. Lydia’s hand on his shoulder tightened, and he wasn’t sure if it was positive or not. He slowly opened his eyes, immediately catching sight of Isaac and Scott plastered on the floor. Scott’s legs were tangled with Isaac’s as they sat up, Scott rubbing the back of his head as Isaac held his ribcage, looking apologetically to Scott.

 _Oh God. They don’t have it. Who has it?!_ Stiles began to panic until he saw the person offering Scott a hand.

Derek helped both Scott and Isaac stand up, fixing Isaac’s crumpled jacket, who in return gave Derek a grateful nod. Scott was looking around, trying to see where the garter belt ended up. Isaac tapped Scott’s chest, catching his attention as he pointed at Derek. They both smiled when they saw that Lydia’s red garter belt was dangling from Derek’s index finger as he put it on display.

Derek looked over at Stiles, the small cocky smile Stiles loved seeing slowly spreading across his lips. His gaze, however, moved over to the other Alpha, all traces of his smile gone.

Stiles looked between Derek and the Alpha, hoping that Derek would refrain from jumping _another_ Alpha over him. He noticed the way they glared at each other, as if they were having their own brooding conversation in a silent werewolf language. But Scott and Isaac remained by Derek’s side, both of them standing behind him in an obvious challenge for the Alpha to try something. Stiles liked to think that Derek could handle himself, but there was absolutely no way the Alpha wanted to challenge another Alpha and his two Betas—on that Alpha’s territory—for the mere pleasure of possibly acquiring Stiles for sexual gratification.

Stiles rolled his eyes, standing up as he handed the bouquet back to Lydia before marching over to Derek and the others. _I’ve had enough of werewolves and their sensitive emotions. This is worse than high school._ He placed his hand on Derek’s shoulder.

“I’m glad you showed up,” Stiles stated, his hand covering Derek’s and the garter belt.

“I had to get a few things,” Derek replied, keeping his eyes on the Alpha.

“Well, come and get me now,” Stiles replied, smirking when Derek’s eyes flickered over to him. “Because I’m starting to feel like the belle of the ball with a bunch of werewolves and drunk people all trying to get a _garter belt_ to put on me.” He tried to sound playful, but the way he said ‘garter belt’ sounded more like ‘stupidest thing to ever happen in the history of Beacon Hills.’

Derek’s eyes lingered on Stiles, observing him for who he was exactly upset with. Stiles noticed the look of guilt and martyrdom— _idiotic martyrdom_ —flash across Derek’s face. He noticed Derek’s hand begin to fall, as if he was going to drop the garter.

 _Oh, don’t you fucking dare_ , Stiles thought, grabbing Derek by the collar of his shirt in order to yank him in close for a long, overdue kiss. To say Stiles was lost in the moment would be a bit of an understatement, his senses completely overwhelmed by everything _Derek_. He did, however, register the sounds of whistling and cheering coming from several people. He missed this over the past month, their kisses goodbyes being tamed and almost forced as they both remained stubborn and unwilling to apologize.

A faint moan escaped Stiles’ throat when Derek’s hands gripped the small of his back, pulling him in close to push their bodies together in a fever. He didn’t bother trying to hide the fact that he keened when Derek’s hands moved to grip his ass, rocking them together. Stiles moved his hands up card them through Derek’s hair, not caring if he had spent hours fixing it to look presentable, _because fuck you for making me wait for you to show up, you perfect asshole_.

Stiles knew exactly what Derek was doing, and he liked the idea over all. He was starved for attention and determined to get every last drop of it he could right now, even if Derek was making a statement to every werewolf that could see them—Stiles was his. He was tempted to pull back and bare his neck to Derek, letting all the cocky British werewolves realize he already gladly submitted to Derek.

It was the painfully awakening sound of the Sheriff clearing his throat that made Stiles pull back from Derek. He gave a completely unapologetic shrug to his father. He was still clinging to Derek, lifting his head slightly when he felt the bridge of Derek’s nose slightly graze the skin just under his jaw.

“Hey, Jackson and I are supposed to be the two who can’t keep their hands off each other,” Lydia’s voice broke through the moment, catching several laughs from everyone.

“Sorry, Lyds,” Stiles replied, his blush creeping up. “Can’t help myself around Derek.”

“Uncle Dewek!” Laura’s voice made everyone pause and forget what was happening as Laura’s tiny form came scurrying across the dance floor. She bunched the skirt of her dress up in her hands to make it easier to run. She giggled when Derek knelt down, holding his arms out.

Derek smiled as he scooped Laura up, wrapping his arms around her as she tightly squeezed him.

“You can save putting the garter on Stiles later tonight, I guess,” Lydia quipped, smiling when she noticed the deep blush running across Stiles’ face.

“What’s a … gawter?” Laura asked as she leaned back from Derek to look at Stiles.

“Uh, it’s, um,” Stiles looked at Derek for help.

“Clothing!” Isaac offered.

Laura giggled when she saw Isaac, hiding her face in Derek’s shoulder. “Issie is funny,” she said.

Scott was still eyeing the other Alpha, still wary even though he backed off the moment Stiles grabbed Derek. He only looked away when Kira placed her hand on his shoulder, giving him a nod that told him to let it go.

“Oh!” Laura exclaimed in excitement, looking at Derek. “Did you get it?” She questioned, her attempt to whisper not exactly subtle.

“It’s a secret, remember?” Derek replied, arching his eyebrow at her.

“Right! Uncle Stiles can’t know!” Laura nodded.

“Hey!” Stiles said as he came closer. “I heard _that_.”

“Uh oh!” Laura covered her mouth with her hands, looking from Stiles to Derek. She giggled again when Derek gently shook his head. He set her down, both him and Stiles watching her run over to John, attempting to climb up in his lap.

“What was that about?” Stiles questioned, nodding his head to Laura.

Derek turned to look at him, opening his mouth to respond when the band suddenly started to play their music once more, everyone forgetting the fact that Stiles was not ‘gartered.’

They both looked at each other before Derek motioned his head towards the French doors that lead off to the veranda overlooking the lake. Stiles followed Derek, brief fear rising in his chest when he started to theorize that Derek was about to drop the ‘we need to talk’ conversation on him. He wandered over to the veranda’s railing, turning his body to face Derek as he leaned his back against it.

Derek’s eyes looked over Stiles as he moved closer to him, stopping in front of him. His hands were housed in the pockets of his jacket as he studied Stiles before ducking his head.

“Please tell me this isn’t us breaking up,” Stiles weakly asked. “Because I shouldn’t have thrown that car part at your head. But to be fair, that thing was heavier than I thought and I have terrible aim. And I probably shouldn’t have slapped you in the ER, but you were slightly to blame for that. You okayed the fact that you got shot, and I get the fact that you’ve got super healing, and I’m grateful you saved my dad’s life, but I can’t help worrying about you, thinking that you might die out there. I mean, you almost jumped an Alpha in there because he was eyeing my ass a little too friendly.”

Derek’s eyebrow arched at that comment.

Stiles winced. “Fuck, you didn’t know that, did you?”

“I might actually kill him now,” Derek grumbled.

“Hey, no,” Stiles reached out and grabbed the lapels of Derek’s jacket, pulling him closer. He felt a wave of relief when Derek’s hands moved to gently house the sides of Stiles’ hips. “I don’t care that he thought he was something I should want. Because I don’t want him. In case you weren’t paying attention in there, but I was making out with you, not him.”

Derek turned his head to the side, looking out over the veranda’s railing to observe the lake.

“Derek, talk to me,” Stiles broke the small silence.

“I have nothing, Stiles,” Derek finally replied. “I have nothing to give you. And to me—to my wolf—that makes me unworthy of you. I don’t have a _family_ , a _pack_ … Scott’s my Alpha out of pity, but mostly because of you. I was the heir to a proud and powerful pack, and it fell apart because of me. I’ve lost two Alphas. I got my entire pack killed before I lost my own Alphahood,” his grip on Stiles’ hips tightened slightly, as if he was using him as a lifeline. He continually stared at Stiles’ chest, unwilling to look up at him. “I’ve been an Omega, and now I’m nothing but a Beta, part of a dying breed of shifters. That Alpha is a more suitable—”

“Shut up or I am going to smack you again,” Stiles’ voice interrupted Derek. "And Scott cares about you. It's not pity."

“Stiles,” Derek sighed his name.

“Look at me,” Stiles stated, bringing his hands up to cup Derek’s face. He waited until Derek met his gaze. “We have a house together. You warm my feet up when they’re cold. You read Laura bedtime stories in those goofy voices she loves, no matter how embarrassed you get about it after she falls asleep. We painted our mailbox together like Carl and Ellie in Up!” He smiled when he saw the light ting of a pink blush fall across Derek’s cheeks. “You continually save my dad’s life—from bullets and clogged arteries. You’re—” his voice broke, a sad laugh bubbling up as he tried not to get emotional. “You’re fixing my mom’s Jeep for me … You put honey in my tea,” he paused as he gently ran his thumb over Derek’s cheek. “You’re _my_ mate, Derek Hale. So don’t you dare tell me that you aren’t suitable for me, because I have been fighting _years_ for us; for you. And I’m not going to let some jerk from across the pond think that he’s better than you.”

Derek leaned in closer to Stiles, their lips almost touching before he whispered, “My hero.”

“I’d rip his throat out with my teeth,” Stiles replied, smiling into their kiss. When their kisses finally subsided, Stiles slowly turned in Derek’s arms, looking out over the lake as he pressed his back into Derek’s chest. A sigh shuddered through him when he felt the tip of Derek’s nose pressed against the skin behind his ear. Sometimes he wished he was able to smell and scent Derek like this, but it was almost enough that Derek could do this to him—that Derek got to experience him like this when no one else did.

“Have you been worrying about this for a while?” Stiles finally asked, placing his arms over Derek’s, cradling his hands in his.

“A little bit before the … accident,” Derek admitted, closing his eyes as he took a deep breath, inhaling Stiles’ scent.

“Can we agree to stop being stubborn and just admit that you were protecting your family and I was upset over you being hurt?” Stiles asked, looking down at their hands as he easily laced their fingers together.

“Family,” Derek repeated the word.

“I’ve told you, Derek, you’ve always been family,” Stiles replied.

“I know,” Derek admitted. “Which has to do with why I’ve been so preoccupied lately.”

“You weren’t avoiding me?” Stiles asked, twisting his upper body to look at Derek.

“I was trying to keep you from nosing around,” Derek ducked his head as he spoke.

“Are you … nervous?” Stiles asked, surprised at seeing Derek nervous for the first time. “Because you don’t do nervous.”

“I’m nervous about this,” Derek replied. “ _You_ make me nervous.”

“Hey,” Stiles gave Derek a playful push.

“In a good way,” Derek added, trying to hide his smile.

Stiles turned his body back, pressing into Derek’s chest. “You don’t have to be nervous, Der,” he leaned his head back against Derek’s as he spoke.

“I never thought I’d have this,” Derek admitted. “I never thought I’d be happy. Not after the fire. Especially after losing Laura. Erica and Boyd. But you kept me grounded. Over the years, you wore down my walls, and you replaced the anger I used to use as my anchor. You kept me human, but helped me better tame my wolf. And after what happened your Junior year—when I lost you, it felt like I lost a limb.” He pressed his lips against Stiles’ temple to soothe the sorrow those memories brought up. “And I never want to feel that way again.”

“Me neither,” Stiles’ voice was soft, almost lost in the moment.

“You make me _happy_. And I haven’t been that in a long time,” Derek took a deep breath before he continued.“So, Przemyslaw Genim Stilinski,” he managed to perfectly announce his name, his voice making Stiles actually _like_ the sound of his name for once.

“Oh my God, I can’t believe you just pronounced my full name correctly,” Stiles groaned.

Derek released a low chuckle before asking, “Would you like to add another name to it?”

Stiles’ heart sped up as he processed what Derek’s question meant. He turned his entire body to look at Derek. He gaped when he noticed the ring Derek was holding up in front of his face. He noticed the ring was slender than most custom male rings. He caught a glimpse of the engraving on the inside, his breath catching when he saw the elegant script of the ‘ _Eternity_ ’ engraving.

“That’s …” Stiles’ voice broke off when he looked back at Derek.

“I spoke with your father that day I got shot. That’s why I was on the shift with him,” Derek explained. “I figured it was the only time I could talk with him without you trying to tag along or showing up.”

Stiles realized that he never thought it was strange that Derek and his father were working the same shift. They had both always taken separate shifts once Stiles and Derek started to date, an attempt to avoid an incident of a conflict of interest.

“He said he’d give his blessing if I used your mom’s ring,” Derek continued. “She wanted you to have it.”

Stiles tried to blink back his tears, his words caught in his throat before he let out a small sob. He welcomed the comfort of Derek’s hand lovingly cupping his cheek, his thumb brushing the tears away.

Derek slowly started to lower himself onto one knee, taking Stiles’ hands in his.

“Derek,” Stiles’ voice cracked under the weight of his emotions.

“Will you, _Stiles_ Stilinski, do me the greatest honor I could ever have, and allow me to be your husband?”

“Yes, you idiot, I will marry the hell out of you,” Stiles replied, releasing a small laugh through his joyful tears when Derek gave him a look that told him he was ruining the moment.

Regardless, Derek smiled as he slipped the ring onto Stiles’ finger, standing up to press their lips together. Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek’s neck as Derek picked him up to spin him. And Stiles loved how stereotypically romance novel-esque it was.

They pulled apart when they heard cheering coming from the now opened French doors. They both looked, Stiles quickly hiding his blushing face in Derek’s shoulder when he realized everyone was watching them. Derek set Stiles back down, smiling when he felt Stiles’ reluctance to let go of him. He easily entwined their fingers, placing a kiss on Stiles’ forehead before he started to walk over to the cheerful crowd.

"I didn't think my mom's ring would fit me," Stiles almost whispered as they walked over to the group of people, using his thumb to twist the metal around his finger.

"I had it resized," Derek explained. "That was one of the things that was taking so long."

"What else were you doing?" Stiles asked, curious if Derek had isolated himself out of his own self-hatred or had done something else insanely romantic.

"I was getting everything arranged with my family's records and accounts," Derek replied, pausing their walk in order to give them a few seconds to talk. "I talked to Cora, and she agreed with me. We added you to them. Now, everything I have is yours, too."

Stiles placed a chaste kiss against Derek's lips. "I wish I had a ring for you," he admitted.

"That was the other thing," Derek stated with a small laugh. He reached into his pocket to retrieve a silver ring.

"That's … ironic," Stiles stated as he took the ring from Derek. He inspected it, catching sight of the engraving on the inside, a small triskelion.

"It was my mother's," Derek explained. "It was in storage since the fire. I had to go through almost every box to find it."

Stiles smiled as he pictured an annoyed Derek surrounded by cardboard boxes as he rummaged through them. He slipped the ring onto Derek's ring finger. "I think it's a perfect set." He tugged Derek after him as he started to head inside.

Once inside, Scott was the one who actually picked Stiles up in a bear hug, both of them laughing. Isaac sheepishly shuffled his weight on his feet as he debated if he was allowed to hug Derek, (he was overjoyed when Derek moved to embrace him first, knowing what Isaac was thinking). Lydia moved to hold Stiles’ hand out to see the ring, inspecting it before giving her nod of approval. Stiles merely rolled his eyes as he hugged her.

Melissa smiled and moved in to hug Stiles, leaning in to say, “Congratulations, honey,” in his ear. Stiles smiled at her, thanking her before his eyes moved over to Derek.

John was shaking hands with Derek before he pulled him in for a hug. It only took Derek a moment before he relaxed, nodding to whatever John whispered in his ear.

Stiles was about to move over to them and discover what exactly they were planning when he felt a tug on his hand. He looked down to see Laura twisting back and forth on her feet. His smile fell when he noticed her pouting.

“Hey, cuddlewolf,” Stiles greeted her, bending down to her level. “What’s wrong?”

“Are Stiles and Uncle Dewek like Mama and Dada now?” Laura asked as she looked over at Derek.

“Um, yeah, we will be,” Stiles replied. He was not prepared for Laura to start crying.

“What’s wrong?” Kira asked as she knelt next to Laura.

“She asked if Derek and I are going to be like you and Scott now,” Stiles explained, only resulting in a high-pitched cry emitting from Laura as she hugged onto Kira.

“Uncle Dewek and Uncle Stiles won’t love me,” Laura cried into Kira’s shoulder.

Derek moved next to Stiles, arching his eyebrow before teasingly asking, “What did you do?”

“Uncle Dewek!” Laura yelled when she heard him, she leaned back from Kira, clasping Derek’s leg tightly.

“Hey, pup,” Derek softly spoke as he picked Laura up. “Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

Laura was crying, mumbling through her tears. Derek’s eyes widened slightly before he started _laughing_. Scott, Isaac, Jackson, and even Kira started laughing.

“Hello?” Lydia replied, clicking her heel. “People with _human_ hearing would like to know.” Stiles was grateful Lydia asked.

“She thinks Derek and Stiles aren’t going to have time for her because,” Scott started laughing harder.

“Because?” Stiles asked in annoyance.

“Because Uncle Stiles is having a baby,” Isaac finished, Scott and him keeping each other from falling over in laughter.

“What!” Stiles’ voice screeched, turning bright red as even Lydia started to laugh.

Derek’s shoulders were actually shaking from trying to suppress his laugh when Stiles looked at him.

“Not funny,” Stiles muttered as he tried to get Laura’s attention. “Hey, cuddlewolf,” he waited until Laura turned her head to look at him, sniffling against Derek’s shoulder. “Even if Uncle Derek and I have a baby,” he shot Scott and Isaac a glare when they started another fit of laughter. “You’re still pack.”

Derek smiled at Stiles before looking down at Laura who was pushing herself off of his shoulder.

“Really?” Laura asked as she wiped her tears away.

“Of course,” Derek confirmed.

“I can … still have my room?” Laura asked, looking from Derek to Stiles.

Stiles couldn’t help but laugh at that before he stated, “You’ll always have your room.”

“Okay,” Laura stated. “Uncle Stiles and Uncle Dewek can have baby,” she stated, leaning in to kiss Derek’s cheek before hugging him.

“I’m glad we have permission,” Stiles muttered under his breath.

Everything ran smoother from that moment on, everyone congratulating them—even Jackson gave Stiles a congratulating slap on the back. It wasn’t until they were back at home, that Stiles asked Derek about the bond mark. He waited until they were both in the shower—both of them barely able to keep their hands off of each other before they managed to open the front door—to ask Derek. He was afraid that despite everything, the question might make Derek uncomfortable.

“Are you going to give me the bond mark?” Stiles asked as he gently lathered Derek’s chest and abdomen with their body wash. It was really just an excuse for him to run his hands over Derek's body.

Derek's fingers were working wonderful massaging magic on Stiles scalp as he shampooed his hair for him, and Stiles partially groaned when he stopped. “Do you,” Derek hesitated before continuing, “Do you _want_ the bond mark?”

Stiles’ paused his hands, looking up at Derek. He hadn’t even considered that Derek might think that he didn’t want to share the bond mark.

“Of course I do,” Stiles replied, his hands forgetting their previous action as he held onto Derek’s hips.

“It’s permanent, Stiles,” Derek replied.

Stiles furrowed his eyebrows as he inspected Derek’s facial features. His voice had sounded as if he was begging Stiles instead of warning him. “Are you planning on divorcing me in the foreseeable future?”

“No,” Derek partially rolled his eyes as he spoke.

“Well, I plan on being with you, _forever_ , so you better be ready to share the bond mark with me,” Stiles stated, pulling Derek back under the running water. “Because you’re stuck with me.”

“Good,” Derek stated against Stiles’ lips before he pressed his against them.

~0~0~0~0~0~

 **_6 months later …_ **

“Ready?” John asked Stiles, the small smile from last night still evident on his face.

“Stop smiling,” Stiles stated as he took his dad’s arm.

“It’s not everyday your son gets married,” John argued back.

“Yeah, yeah,” Stiles replied.

“I'm happy for you. And … your mom would be real proud of you, kiddo,” John responded. "For everything. And she would have really liked Derek."

Stiles looked at his dad, a small smile crossing his lips. “Thanks, dad.”

Lydia popped her head in, giving Stiles a curt ‘Showtime’ as the music started. Stiles saluted her, terrified of his own best woman.

“I’m glad you let Scott be Derek’s best man,” John stated. “I thought he was going to have a stroke worrying about how to choose between you two.”

“And _not_ have Lydia control everything?” Stiles quipped. “I don’t have a death wish, dad.”

They both chuckled as the doors opened. Stiles looked up, his eyes flicking over the guests. He was overjoyed at seeing his friends and family, all turning around to look at him. He ducked his head and laughed when he saw Mrs. Robinson give him an affirming thumbs-up. He looked down the aisle, unable to stop himself from smiling when he saw Derek standing there. _Waiting for me_. He followed his dad’s lead, actually nervous that he might trip and destroy Lydia’s floral decorations, afraid of suffering her wrath. He ignored his fears in favor of keeping eye contact with Derek, unable to contain his joy.

Derek was smiling, completely blown away with the realization that this was happening. He was marrying Stiles. He felt his wolf preened with pride when he caught a small glimpse of the bond mark peering out from under Stiles’ collar.

_Stiles._

_Husband._

_Mate._

_Home._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to join me on [tumblr](http://drunklightning.tumblr.com) and squeal over Sterek feels <3

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to join me on tumblr:
> 
> [drunklightning](http://drunklightning.tumblr.com) is my blog where I reblog anything I find of interest.
> 
> [dexterous-sinistrous](http://dexterous-sinistrous.tumblr.com) is suited towards my ramblings about my writing, and NSFW. (It's where I serenade myself about Sterek). It's my trashcan of emotions. Feel free to stop by and say hi, criticize me, make incoherent noises with me, whatevs.
> 
> [Send](http://dexterous-sinistrous.tumblr.com/ask) me any prompts you think you'd like to have me write!


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